


Return At Dawn

by TheRoarOfAtlas



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Cheek Touching, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd-centric, Enjoy!, Eventual Smut, Everyone Lives Playthrough, Except Edelgard sorry mate, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Flashbacks, Gratuitous Violence, Hurt/Comfort, I had so much fun, Loss of Virginity, Mutual Pining, My First Work in This Fandom, Post-Time Skip, Prime Indulgence Hours, THIS IS SO LONG, The Savior King, These two are so dumb, Third Time's the Charm, Torment, basically the gang's all here - Freeform, dimileth, hand-holding, it reads like Victorian porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21534211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoarOfAtlas/pseuds/TheRoarOfAtlas
Summary: I would like you all to bear witness to this...behemoth.  I have played over two hundred hours of this game, my life is chaos, and the post-timeskip cutscene is the sole reason why I wrote the entire thing. Obviously, spoiler warning for the Blue Lions route.[x-posted to Tumblr]Enjoy!
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 7
Kudos: 205





	Return At Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment deals heavily with death and various, vivid post-traumatic scenarios. Stay safe!]

_"Come in old man, I'm just washing up!" The muffled reply to his knock threw Dimitri for a momentary loop. She must have assumed he was Jeralt coming to check on her._

_"Er, Professor Byleth?" He called, gingerly easing the door to her quarters open. "It's me, Dimitri. May I…?"_

_"Prince Dimitri, head of the house, right?" Their new professor emerged from the tiny luxury that was the en-suite washroom, wiping her hands on a towel. The remains of some soap suds clung to her cheek, which Dimitri chose to ignore as best as he could. "Here to try and scare me off? I warn you, I'm a force to be reckoned with."_

_"Not at all!" Dimitri hastily assured the newly-minted professor, bowing on reflex._

_He hadn't expected her to be so outspoken. When she had been with Jeralt, she kept the chatter to a minimum. Even if she hadn't though, normally once people found out he was a prince the stiff manners ensued._

_The hand that warmly clasped his own was calloused with abundant scarring across the knuckles, a telltale sign of her successful mercenary career. "I just wanted to see whether you were having any issues settling in." The prince continued._

_"No problems so far, give me a few days to get lost in this place and I'm sure I'll have the layout memorized." She said it with a straight face, but Dimitri felt as if he were being joked with._

_"Would you like a guide? I'm certain I can assist you in navigating the monastery on your first day." He offered cordially._

…

Dimitri jerked awake. 

He was still where he had dropped last, his back pressed to the wall behind him. The end of his lance was wedged into the cracked marble underfoot, propping it upright. His grip on the heavy weapon hadn't loosened, even in his momentary doze.

The once-princeling raised his remaining eye, taking in his handiwork. Butchered Imperial soldiers littered the cathedral floor in front of him, victims of their own foolishness. A chilling breeze blew through the enormous archway, but he doubted he could feel any colder.

In the five years since Byleth was lost, her voice had been added to the burden on his soul. Along with his father, his stepmother, Glenn, Dedue...all of them screaming for vengeance, _redeem us Dimitri, why couldn't you save us Dimitri_.

He was a shambling corpse, a beast driven mad by blood-craze, the wild boar suited for nothing but destruction and slaughter. How Felix would laugh, if he could see what depths the once-prince had sunk to. 

The shaft of Dimitri's fearsome lance, an enormous thing intended for use by mounted cavalry, was tacky with half-dried blood. He wanted to feel nauseous. Maybe that was the hunger talking. When had he eaten last?

_What was I dreaming about?_

For the first time in what felt like years, he had dozed off. And instead of being tormented by memories of fire or the loss of Dedue, he was granted a bittersweet respite in the form of recalling his beloved professor's first foray into the academic life.

Grief tore at him wildly, making him hunch into himself once again. The pain was so sharp and vivid whenever he thought of _her_ ; he couldn't stop his body's reaction to the perceived assault. His grip on his lance tightened and he clenched his jaw, refusing to make a sound. Mourning was a luxury reserved for someone far better than he was. All he deserved was to suffer agony in silence.

Overwhelmed with weariness, his head pounding, Dimitri closed his eye again.

…

_"The professor is gone, but I do not believe she is dead!" Dimitri yelled fiercely as he sawed at the reins of his destrier. The horse whinnied and pawed the earth nervously, fighting the prince every step of the way. "We_ **_will_ ** _save Professor Byleth!"_

_"He's right, there's no way she's lost to us!" Ingrid agreed, her own mount giving her no end of trouble. "Blue Lions, if there is a way for us to get her back, we must try!"_

_"Our professor lives, I know it!" Dedue announced firmly, the other students on foot rallying behind his shield._

_Dimitri spurred his horse forward, going at a breakneck pace across the battlefield. "_ **_Solon!_ ** _" He shouted, readying his lance. "I'll slice you into a thousand pieces as you watch with horror! You will know true pain before I finally allow you to die!" The flames of Duscur seared his soul; the dead cried out for vengeance and he must give it to them. Such was the burden of the living._

_"How trite!" Solon sneered. "But! If you wish for pain, I shall oblige."_

_Dimitri's horse thundered onward relentlessly, the prince disrupting enemy formations left and right as he rode. Sylvain and Felix were close behind, with Dedue and Ingrid maintaining the rear guard. Just like they had practiced, Annette and Ashe used Dedue's shield as cover for their respective spells and arrows while Mercedes and Flayn kept a vigilant eye out for any injuries._

_Dimitri advanced on Solon, his lance gleaming in the sunset as he prepared to strike him down. "Die, monster!" The infernal darkness that had dogged him since Duscur wrapped around his soul like a hand, squeezing, squeezing-_

_Brilliant light erupted in the air directly in front of him and his horse reared, nearly unseating the prince. A red-hot blade seemed to pierce the sky itself, a rift tearing open to reveal…_

_Professor Byleth! The Sword of the Creator was ablaze with a fiery glow, so bright it pained Dimitri to behold it. For one fleeting moment he felt fear, as though he were a damned sinner who was about to be judged by the Goddess herself. Then, the darkness fled from his mind, clarity returning as surely as his professor had._

_"Professor Byleth!" He said gladly, raising his lance in a knight's salute to her. He paused, however, as his eyes grew accustomed to the light. Her hair...and her eyes! Such a strange shade of green they were, like sunlight filtered through forest leaves. What had happened to her in the brief time she had been away from them? What torments had wrought their havoc upon her?_

_Solon appeared just as confused as he was, babbling about the Forbidden Spell and how the professor shouldn't have been able to escape from it._

_"We were sure that you would return! Please tell me all that happened to you later. For now, it's imperative that we kill the demon!" Dimitri urged his horse into a canter after Professor Byleth nodded to him. More enemies had appeared on the field, no doubt brought there by Solon's foul magics. But the Blue Lions would not lose their professor again._

**_He_ ** _would not lose their professor again_.

…

The soft tread of someone entering the sanctuary roused Dimitri to awareness once more. He didn't so much as flinch, steadying his breathing. Better to not draw attention to himself ahead of time, after all. 

The sky outside had begun to brighten to a steely gray with the dawn, the wind even colder than before. 

Dimitri lifted his gaze and was duly horrified by what he saw. Another apparition, another shadow come to torment him at night. Had his delusions truly worsened so, that she would linger even in the waxing dawn? 

Her strides were cautious. She practically tiptoed. So unlike his professor. 

Dimitri's remaining eye narrowed. An impostor, then. No doubt sent by Edelgard to gain his trust. How _transparent_ of the Flame Emperor. "Stay where you are, interloper." He rasped. "Unless you wish to be cut down."

She did not speak. The witch had done her research, it would seem. All she did was carefully pick her way around the corpses, heading towards him. 

"I should have known, that one day you would be haunting me as well." Dimitri leaned forward, lance braced on the ground. "I will warn you only one more time, _trespasser_ ." The former prince spat, the sharp blade of his lance glinting in the first fitful rays of morning sunlight. "Stay _back_."

The hallucination or impostor had the audacity to look _distressed_ with him, shaking her head. The sunrise suddenly poured into the room in earnest, robing her in golden splendor. 

Dimitri momentarily closed his eye against the onslaught of memories. The Blue Lion brooch the class had gifted her on her birthday so long ago was securely pinned to her bosom, the beast's inlaid sapphire eyes sparkling in the dawn. That Edelgard would go to _this_ extent for authenticity-! Had that monster found where the professor's final resting place was and robbed her grave to lay claim to the bauble? Or-

Byleth touched his cheek and his eye snapped open. All the other apparitions were so cold, but her hand was warm enough that he could actually _feel_ it on his chilled face. "Leave me, you foul demon! Why do you dog my footsteps? Why did you come to this wretched place?" Dimitri hissed. "Just to torment me, to remind me that I failed? I _will_ kill that woman, I swear it! Do not look upon me with scorn in your eyes!"

"I'm so sorry." 

Oh! Her voice! The dead heart in his breast gave a weary little beat at the familiarity of it all. How many times had they sparred? How many times had she praised his monstrous strength instead of critiquing his enthusiastic, graceless way of moving?

_How many, how many, how many_ …

"Why have you come here?" Dimitri asked again, his words quieter this time. "If you are truly alive, _here_ , then you must be an Imperial spy. That's the only way you could have survived. Have you come to kill me, cur of Edelgard?" He snarled. "Answer the question."

"Of course not." She murmured, her thumb brushing some dried blood off his cheek. He must have been injured during his previous fracas with the Imperial soldiers. Dimitri had felt no wound over the constant throbbing of his head, however. Her eyes searched his own, probing, _concerned_. "What happened?" 

_What happened to you, what happened to the monastery, what happened to me._ Dimitri was unsure of what she was asking and she wasn't elaborating. 

He could have dropped his lance and crushed her skull with the strength of his hands alone. Yet...hesitation. Doubt. Momentary weakness while Dimitri extended a hand and traced the side of her face, cheekbone to jaw. He was ashamed of how his fingers trembled. She was real. _Tangible_ . No impostor could mimic her this well, nor could the Imperial magisters. So she _must_ be a spy in the Emperor's pocket. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved that his mind hadn't slipped further into delirium or enraged that Edelgard would conceive such a bold-faced scheme.

His armored palm curved against her cheek, not gentle enough to be a caress but not nearly harsh enough to be a shove. "You should not be here." The fury had seeped out of his words, leaving them hollow. He felt abruptly drained.

Her hand covered his own on her cheek and healing light washed over him, banishing the weariness that had befallen him after his last pitched fight with the Imperial soldiers. He _had_ been wounded, then? His memory must have gone patchy during the conflict. "I'm glad you're alright." She whispered.

"Am I?" Dimitri pulled himself upright, impatiently waving off the hand she offered. "There are rats and _thieves_ , crawling in the ruins below that I must remove." He muttered. "They are drawn here by the promise of treasure. I will...kill them all. Until Edelgard runs out of soldiers and has no choice but to come find me herself. Someone must put a stop to this cycle of the strong trampling the weak." Pretty words. He did not actually believe them. 

"Your Highness-"

"Do not refer to me as such. As far as the kingdom is aware, I died four years ago in Fhirdiad." Dimitri shook himself bodily, trying to free his form of the stiffness and morning chill that clung to him. "I must rid this place of its rat problem."

"How many of them are there?" She was cautious again. She should be.

"It doesn't matter." Dimitri snarled. "All that matters is killing those who deserve to die."

…

"It smells of blood and sewage." The prince mused, a smirk upon his face. "It seems I've found their nest."

Byleth looked up at him, thoroughly concerned by the undercurrent of excitement in his tone. This was not the same young man she had once taught in the classroom. He seemed rabid and fixated at the same time, the sinister grin he sported twisting his stern features into a terrible mask. 

He glanced over to her. It was impossible to miss that somewhere along the way he had lost the use of his right eye, the space now covered by a dark eyepatch. She had tried to stay on his left while they slunk through the dawn's shadows down to the monastery's edge, where the thieves were at their thickest. It would do her no good to approach on his blind side and be run through for spooking him.

For just a second, she could have sworn his expression softened slightly. "Shall we go rat hunting, Professor?" 

_Professor, professor…_

She had never imagined her title could sound so bitter and forlorn. "Would you rather I move to your right and guard you? Or stay within sight on your left?"

Dimitri hesitated before responding, "Do as you please. I am accustomed to protecting my blind spot. Opponents always believe it to be a weak point."

"I will guard your right as we push forward, then." Byleth said firmly. "One less thing for you to worry about." He did not thank her, and she did not expect him to.

Dimitri moved like a wild animal in a feeding frenzy. Mercilessly cutting down the thieves, whirling his enormous lance around his body as if it weighed nothing. He had gotten even _stronger_ , and unfortunately, far better at killing.

Even when the enemy managed to land blows upon him he shrugged them off, single-minded in his advance. The leader of the thieves had ensconced himself in a half-collapsed cupola and it did not take an incredible strategist to know that this man was Dimitri's mark. " _Out of my way!_ " The once-princeling roared, the next blow from that mighty lance splitting the very flagstones with the force he put behind it. "Interlopers, thieves, _scum!_ You will pay for your foolhardy destruction of the nearby village and your _ransacking_ of my graveyard with your pitiful lives!"

Byleth deflected an arrow aimed at Dimitri's blind side and the blond swung his lance over her head with a grunt of exertion, slaying the archer that dared to try him. True, the two of them were strong, but their adversaries were numerous. Even with both of their skill sets, this could prove to be a fruitless struggle.

She suddenly heard a loud rattle of armor behind her. "His Highness! And...the professor?" Gilbert sounded shocked, and well he should.

"I know it's been five years, but I never expected the monastery to end up like _this_." A bowstring twanged and an arrow sang overhead. "This place is a wreck!"

"Ashe!" Byleth said gladly. Ashe strode forward. He was taller and broader now but had that same boyish grin, another arrow nocked and ready to fire.

The embodiment of gentle grace herself seemed to materialize out of the morning mist beside Byleth, Mercedes reaching up to pat the professor's shoulder. "I haven't seen any of you in such a long time. I'm so glad to see you're alive." 

Gilbert advanced from the rear guard, Annette perched securely on his shoulders. From her lofty vantage point, she launched furious gouts of magic that leveled foes. "It's over, thieves!" She announced with fervour. 

Dimitri seemed bewildered by the sudden arrival of his old classmates and allies, actually pausing in his assault. "Why...why are _you_ here?" He asked, clearly confused.

"No time for that now, your Highness!" Mercedes aimed a fire spell beneath his elbow, taking down a thief who had been attempting to sneak by the group. "We can catch up later."

"And we definitely will!" Byleth couldn't help her laugh, utterly thrilled by the appearance of their friends. 

Galloping hoofbeats signaled another approach and Sylvain thundered past the group. "C'mon guys, we've got a nest to exterminate!" He yelled over his shoulder, reining in his horse. "Nice to see ya', Teach!" 

A pegasus swooped by overhead, Ingrid's lance gleaming in the early morning light as she rocketed onward. "We'll catch up later!" She called.

Grateful tears filled Byleth's eyes and she hurried to dash them away. "You're all just-"

"Now is not the time for sentiments." Felix grumbled from her elbow, loosening the sheath binding on his blades. "We're all here because we made a promise to return. That's that. Don't waste your breath _thanking_ us, Professor."

Dimitri looked a strange combination of outraged and grateful, the tall young man clearing his throat and then raising his voice. "Listen up! We must end this quickly." He still commanded _some_ form of respect it would seem, as Byleth's former students took heed of his orders and arranged themselves accordingly. 

…

It felt like several lifetimes had passed since Dimitri had seen the faces that rallied with him. And yet they followed orders just like they had when they were nothing but children, classmates, _friends_. 

A brief flicker of self-awareness crushed him in its grip. Nausea, bringing with it a wave of fetid bile to sour his mouth. _I will use you all to suit my ends, until I can use you no longer and discard you._ "Seal off their escape routes! Leave none alive! Those who would strip this place must pay the ultimate price!" Dimitri shouted hoarsely.

He was no longer the noble, chivalrous prince who led his forces to victory, but the ravenous, slavering beast who craved nothing more than to see his enemies utterly broken before him. Dimitri had thought he came to terms with this long ago. However, having Professor Byleth witness his behavior was...it made it seem more _real_ , somehow. It solidified his fall from regal poise into brutal, blood-soaked chaos.

He wanted to hate her for it. Dimitri wanted to _loathe_ her for holding them to such high standards, for always encouraging them to do their best…

_For leaving him all alone._

He hadn't been _ready!_ When news of her disappearance had reached him, he had gone into a blind despair. They relied on her, _depended_ upon her, and now she was _gone?_ There had been so much he wanted to say to her. His heart had screamed the agony he refused to voice, the _maybe I could have_ s keeping him up long into the night.

It felt like a cruel joke.

Then, Dedue perished as his whipping boy, thanks to Cornelia's elaborate frame job of the only surviving member of House Blaiddyd. The last fragment of his tenuous humanity sacrificed along with his stalwart friend, Dimitri had slaughtered guards of his own kingdom to steal their weaponry and then vanished into the wilds. Let Cornelia do as she pleased with the battered kingdom of Faerghus, he no longer cared. All he wanted...all he _lived_ for, was his revenge.

Dimitri took to terrorizing and harassing Imperial troops wherever he found them. With every soldier killed it became easier to rationalize his horrific actions. 

_Because they're Edelgard's, and everyone connected to her will suffer until she comes to atone._

His prior clean ways of dispatching enemies dissolved into gory bloodbaths. The once-prince no longer worried about causing unnecessary pain; instead, he focused more and more on the _fear_. Everyone would die as his family had died, as Dedue and his dear professor had died: with terror etched into their souls and no mercy given.

Dimitri struck out for Garreg Mach upon learning Imperial troops were sent there regularly, the soldiers tasked with handling thieves that menaced the nearby village. That the Knights of Seiros were too damn preoccupied with their search for their precious archbishop to offer any sort of assistance came as no surprise to the once-prince. After all, when it came down to brass tacks, the church served the church. 

It had given him a certain, sadistic pleasure to cleanse the monastery's cathedral of its Imperial infestation, though he had done so at a great cost to his own body. If Byleth had not returned when she had…

Regardless, she was a gifted healer and strong warrior. She would serve his crusade for revenge well.

Dimitri steadfastly ignored the soft voice in his head that added _and we won't lose her again_.

…

_Byleth strode past Dedue and Dimitri without so much as a nod. Dedue hailed their professor, but she didn't seem to hear him._

_Dimitri's brow furrowed. "Dedue, have you ever known our professor to ignore a greeting?" The prince asked his stalwart companion. "She even greets a majority of the knights by name."_

_Dedue tilted his head, visibly puzzled. "Perhaps she was deep in thought, your Highness?"_

_"Professor?" Dimitri called, getting as much of a reply as Dedue had. He noticed with a start that she was in her armor, as though she was heading out on one of their missions. But nothing had been issued that he knew of. And he was the head of the house! If a mission had been given, he would know about it. "Dedue, we must gather the others and follow her. This bodes poorly." Dimitri decided._

_"Of course, your Highness. I will alert our classmates. It may take some time to get mounts saddled, however-"_

_"We have to hurry, otherwise we will lose track of her. Use your best judgement and have everyone meet at the gates."_

_The professor moved as if she was in a trance. One foot in front of the other, unaware of her surroundings. It was so very peculiar, yet no one else seemed to take any notice of it at all._

_Dimitri followed at what he deemed a safe distance, but it was soon apparent that there was no need for any sort of attempt at stealth. She either expected to be followed or simply did not care if she was._

_Professor Byleth made her way to the garrison stables and took the nearest horse, not even bothering with saddle or bridle. The beast didn't seem to mind, waiting patiently by the mounting block for her to climb aboard and then quickly setting off at a brisk canter._

_Dimitri swore under his breath, scrambling to saddle his own mount._

_"Your Highness! What's going on?" Ingrid queried, swinging open the stall door._

_"We must be swift and cautious, Ingrid. It's probably nothing, but I fear there may be something sinister at work. Make haste." The prince ordered, settling into his saddle and gathering the reins._

_"Of course. Shall I wait for Sylvain?"_

_"Yes, and I tasked Dedue with gathering the others. From what I saw, the professor was heading in the direction of the Canyon. If something changes, I'll leave a message at the gates."_

_The professor had a head start and Dimitri realized that she had not, in fact, taken a random horse. She had taken a_ **_fast_ ** _horse. It might have even been Ferdinand's prized mount, but there were several chestnut horses in the stables and Dimitri had a difficult time differentiating between the animals on a good day. He knew that as a member of the gentry, he_ **_ought_ ** _to be a good judge of horseflesh. Due to his heavy-handed strength however, he had never gotten much use out of fleet-footed, leggy mounts._

_His destrier was worked into a lather by the time he reached the Red Canyon. The powerful beast slowed to a trot with its ears flattened against its skull, its nostrils flaring as it sampled the wind._

_A fierce roar echoed through the gorge and Dimitri jerked the reins, quickly halting his steed. The roar had come from deeper in the canyon._ **_Where the professor was._ **

_Sylvain paused beside him, the redhead's own mount fidgeting nervously. "So your Highness, we headin' in?" Sylvain asked, loosening the strap that secured his lance to his side. "_ **_Whatever_ ** _that was, it sure as heck didn't sound friendly. If Professor Byleth is in there…" He left his words hanging pointedly._

_"I am well aware, Sylvain. I merely wished to wait for at least one more person. Charging into a situation without any sort of backup is foolhardy."_

_"I live to serve." Sylvain threw the prince a roguish wink, slapping his stallion's neck with the reins to encourage it forward._

_Dimitri rolled his eyes and nudged his destrier into a loping canter, quickly overtaking his friend. Ingrid came up on the left, her gelding tossing its head and showing the whites of its eyes. "The horses are uneasy and I don't care for it!" Ingrid observed over the racket of pounding hooves. "Best that we find the professor quickly!"_

_Dimitri nodded curtly, mentally willing his horse to go even faster. He bent low against the steed's neck, slacking the reins and feeling its gait stretch out into a smooth gallop when he gave it its head to run. Sylvain whooped, following close behind._

_Finding the source of the roar was an easy enough task. A huge demonic beast accompanied by two enormous wolves snarled and snapped at the professor, the woman dodging them nimbly on foot. Her horse was nowhere to be seen, doubtless fled in panic._

_"Hallo Professor!" Sylvain yelled, waving his arm over his head to get her attention. "Looks like you're in a bit of a jam! Mind if we cut in?"_

_"_ **_Sylvain_ ** _…" Dimitri muttered, thoroughly exasperated with his lackadaisical friend._

_Not only were there the massive beasts trying to savage their professor, but even as the three students advanced, monstrous hawks closed in from the rear._

_Luckily, Dedue and the others were not far behind. The Duscur man looked a bit green from his hurried horseback ride, but gamely got his axe right into the swing of things. Felix rode up past Ingrid and Sylvain, tossing Ingrid a lance as he went. "Forget something?" The black-haired young man asked her, his tone annoyed as ever._

_"Thank you Felix!" Ingrid replied, almost sarcastically. Dimitri wanted to laugh at their easy dynamic, though this situation was no laughing matter._

_Felix's blade flashed through the air like lightning, the swordsman scoring a deep gash in the shoulder of the closest wolf to draw its attention. "Hie, you dumb beast!" He shouted, "you're no match for me! Face me and meet your end!"_

_"Easy Felix, the professor is our priority!" Sylvain chided, lowering his lance and preparing to charge the other wolf. "Ingrid, lend me a hand? Two lances are better than one!"_

_Dimitri thundered forward through the opening his friends had created, the prince facing down the largest demonic beast. "Professor, are you harmed?" He called to her, relieved when she shook her head. "Please assist me in dispatching this foe!"_

_Despite the size advantage, the multitude of strange beasts were no match for the student's coordinated efforts. Ashe felled the last hawk with a grunt of exertion, having overdrawn his bow to reach the high-flying target. The bowstring snapped, making the young archer yelp in a combination of surprise and pain._

_Professor Byleth started visibly at the noise, shaking her head as if she was dismissing something. "Are you alright?" She called to him, sheathing her sword even though it still steamed with ichor._

_"Fine! I'm fine, it just caught my face." Ashe assured her, rubbing his cheek gingerly. Mercedes descended to heal over the silver-haired boy's injury, her fingers tracing the welt the bowstring had left._

_"Professor, I know it is not my place to chastise you," Dimitri began sternly, his hands on his hips._

_"It seems I put you all in danger." Professor Byleth observed ruefully. "I didn't expect anyone to follow me here."_

_"You did not exactly make it a difficult task." The prince scolded, "Never once did you check to see if you were being tailed! Honestly Professor, what on earth were you thinking?! Coming to this dangerous place with no one by your side!"_

_"I felt drawn here, your Highness. As though I needed to come. I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't explain."_

_"Next time you feel such_ **_urges_ ** _, I strongly encourage you to find me first. If not to talk some sense into you, then to offer my lance to defend you!" Dimitri snapped, perhaps a bit sharper than he had intended._

_The professor was silent for a moment and the prince busied himself with roughly cleaning his lance. "You feared for me." She said finally, her voice soft._

_"Of course I-_ **_we_ ** _did!" Dimitri erupted, thoroughly exasperated. "By the Goddess, have you no sense of preservation? There were at least_ **_six_ ** _enormous monsters intent on ending you!" The haft of his lance groaned in warning before the metal abruptly snapped from the pressure of his grip. The prince swore in a manner that was most unbecoming of a gentleman, barely resisting the urge to throw his now-useless weapon as far as he could._

_Professor Byleth put a hand on his arm and he shot her a glare, opening his mouth to continue berating her. But her expression stopped him dead. She looked more distraught than he had ever seen her, eyes downcast and shoulders hunched slightly._

_The prince's combined indignation and relief leaked out of him. In its stead, he heaved a heavy sigh and placed his gauntlet over her hand on his arm. "What's done is done. You are safe, as are the rest of us. But I meant what I said. Should you fancy to wander,_ **_tell me_ ** _. It will do us no good to lose you, my dear professor."_

...

They had all returned to the monastery just as they had promised five years ago. The millennium feast day, and not a pilgrim in sight. Byleth sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. 

The monastery was a mess. Annette had thrown herself wholeheartedly into cleaning up, Ashe and Sylvain at her side. Ingrid and Felix seemed thoroughly invested in restocking the moldering larders. Mercedes flitted from group to group, offering a hand wherever it was needed. Gilbert was still making his rounds, examining the state of the dilapidated fortifications and trying to prioritize what to mend first. 

Dimitri however, appeared utterly disinterested in assisting with any of these reconstructive efforts. The prince simply stood in the middle of the cathedral's sanctuary, his arms folded across his chest. Anyone who attempted to engage him was met with silence and an icy glare. 

Byleth thumped her forehead on the rickety desk when _that_ cheerful information was relayed, making the knight who had delivered it snicker quietly. "Alright, thank you for the update." The former professor mumbled, already leafing through the next mountainous stack of parchment. Requisition orders, provision plans, drill schedules...Gilbert certainly wasted no time whipping everything back into shape, herself included. What was a five year gap among friends?

"My apologies for the skewed workload, professor. We are at war and the man who should be overseeing this...appears unwell." Gilbert's delicacy when mentioning Dimitri didn't go unnoticed by Byleth, the young woman beckoning the elder knight close.

"Is he entirely lost to us?" She asked worriedly.

Gilbert hummed, stroking his stubble thoughtfully. "If not for the way that he attends to you, I would have said yes." He finally answered. "The solitude he has inflicted upon himself has clearly done his mental state no favors, as has his obsession with the Emperor. Yet…" Byleth flushed, cursing inwardly at the way Gilbert studied her. "He listens when you speak. That may be our only hope thus far, but it is a formidable one all the same."

Byleth sighed. "I hope I'm up to the task."

"If anyone could pull him out of this darkness, it is you." Gilbert stated firmly. 

…

The cathedral was silent. Aside from the birds that rustled in the rafters, all was peaceful. The perfect area for Dimitri to hold his forum with the dead. Glenn, his father, his stepmother, Dedue, they all had a say in his next move and they all clamored maddeningly loud for Edelgard's demise.

His resolve was thrown into question by these beleaguered phantoms. Over and over Dimitri found himself frantically reassuring his dearly departed that he would tear Edelgard apart for them, that he would secure their salvation no matter what it cost him personally. 

Their visages floated just out of the edge of his limited vision, forcing Dimitri to turn this way and that to try and keep them within sight. Always so close and yet, so very far away.

The day's events had thoroughly exhausted him at this stage. Gilbert hadn't verified the structural integrity of the second floor of dormitories, and as such the once-prince was without a concrete sleeping location. He ended up simply stretching out on the marble floor of the cathedral, his heavy mantle spread over him. 

Dimitri stared up at the stars through the destroyed roof. Even from his far-flung position, he could dimly hear the noise of the soldiers in the dining hall. It was so strange to sense motion and not be overly concerned about it, yet he did not fear any sort of assault. He wasn't quite sure what to make of _that_ , the sense of complacent security he had.

He knew better than to think he might actually _sleep_ , but to his surprise, he actually found himself dozing.

…

_"It's kind of pathetic to think about it all these years later, but can you guess what I gave her as a parting gift?" Dimitri grinned in anticipation of her attempt, happy that he wasn't the only one who would embarrass himself this evening._

_"Don't tell me." Professor Byleth's expression had gone deadpan once more. "You got her a dagger, didn't you."_

_Dimitri was taken aback by her rapid,_ **_correct_ ** _reply. 'Horrified' was probably a better term. "Huh. Good guess, Professor. But I_ **_swear_ ** _it came from the heart. How on earth did you know?" He asked sheepishly._

_"You're a practical sort. Self defense, or something a little more abstract?"_

_"I-I mean...well, both? In Faerghus, we've long considered blades as tools of destiny. As a way to cut a path to a better future." Dimitri failed to keep the wistful note out of his voice. "She was being dragged all over, unable to live the life she wanted. I thought the dagger could help her cut a path to the future she dreamed of." He sighed heavily. "However, that was many years ago. I'm sure she's forgotten all about the boy I was back then."_

_"It's not too late to reconnect. Perhaps you should invite her to tea? Something small, so you don't make her wary." Byleth suggested gently._

_Dimitri shook his head ruefully. "I'm afraid it's far too late for that. Things are different now. She's different._ **_I'm_ ** _different."_

_He rotated his arm, his shoulder still a little stiff from all the dancing. Holding rigorous posture was never an enjoyable experience, especially when he dwarfed all his partners (other than Claude). Professor Byleth said nothing in response to his quick dismissal of rekindling a sibling relationship with Edelgard, and Dimitri was immensely grateful._

_"Anyway, I'm feeling a bit out of place here. Festivities like this don't suit me." He glanced at her from beneath the curtain of his messy blond bangs, knowing that his hair must be utterly hopeless at this stage of the evening. "Professor, will you join me for a stroll? You must be tired of the ball yourself, seeing as you wandered out here for air just as I did."_

_Byleth nodded and Dimitri offered her his arm._

_The Goddess Tower was so quiet, far from the commotion of the main hall. Dimitri found his palms sweaty inside his gauntlets and he grimaced. What a fool he was, inviting the professor to come along with him to this place. He had never paid much mind to the children's tales of wishes at specific locations. The Goddess would never intervene for him, that much was clear. Why waste time with this nonsense?_

_Yet...here he was. Inches from the moon, he fancied, with Professor Byleth at his side. He was silent for a time, but she didn't seem to mind. If anything, she appeared grateful for a moment of respite. She sat on the railing, the two of them looking at the stars._

_"What a wonderful night." Byleth murmured. "I know I'll be paying for all that dancing, but that's a problem for tomorrow."_

_"I am pleased that you enjoyed yourself, professor." Dimitri replied. "The peace here_ **_is_ ** _appreciated after all that hubbub."_

_He shifted to face her, asking conversationally if she knew the legend of the Goddess Tower. He was surprised when she nodded enthusiastically. He hadn't pegged her as someone who put stock in nonsense fairytales and he said as much, making her laugh._

_"Your Highness, it's alright to be a little childish sometimes. I may not_ **_believe_ ** _there's any truth to it, but it's fun to think about." She explained. Then, "You don't believe your wishes will come true, if you stand here and wish with me?"_

_"Legends are legends, nothing more." Dimitri murmured. "I doubt there are many who truly believe that wishes can be granted." He cleared his throat. "Though...I suppose there's no harm in passing the time with silly legends." His melancholy dismissed for the time being, Dimitri extended a hand to his professor, smiling. "What do you say, Professor? Care to make a wish? We_ **_are_ ** _here on the night of the ball. Why don't you try wishing for something?"_

_"After you!" Byleth teased, her playful tone encouraging Dimitri to believe in the magic of such an endeavor, if only for a moment. She hopped off the railing and looked at him expectantly._

_"A wish of my own…" the prince mused, stroking his chin as he thought. "I suppose...my wish is for a world in which no one would ever be unjustly taken from us." He paused, realizing how serious that sounded. "Or, er, something along those lines." He hurriedly amended._

_Her hand rested beside his own on the railing and he was graced with another one of her soft smiles. "I will wish for the same."_

_Dimitri's gratitude threatened to make him teary and he glanced away, clearing his throat again. "Thank you, Professor." He forced himself to smile winningly, looking back at her. "Although, at a time like this…perhaps it would make more sense for me to wish that we'll be together forever! What do you think?"_

_She stared up at him in silence for several agonizing seconds. Dimitri slowly realized that the words he had spoken were_ **_incredibly_ ** _weighty and he frantically scrambled to think of a way to defuse the dangerous situation he had created. How could he have said something so_ **_foolish?_ **

_Dimitri mustered up a weak chuckle. "Well now, Professor! You must admit I've improved in the art of joke-telling!" He grinned._

_"That was cruel. It didn't sound like a joke." Byleth's eyes were sad and Dimitri longed desperately to ponder on that. Had she_ **_wanted_ ** _him to be sincere? No, that couldn't be it. Perhaps she was more annoyed than sad? Oh, if his improper actions had offended her-!_

_"I'm sorry. I guess that_ **_was_ ** _rather thoughtless of me." He apologized earnestly. "Honestly, I do regret saying such a thing. Please, think nothing of it. I've blurted out irresponsible things like that to my classmates. Promises that we'll see each other again and the like." It was not entirely a lie; Dimitri felt his heart sink whenever he inadvertently made the grave error of promising anyone anything from him in the years to come. "I have no business making such promises for the future. There are certain things that I must accomplish, even if it means risking my life. I may not even_ **_have_ ** _a future to promise to someone."_

_There. As close to the whole truth as he had ever gotten with another person. It was_ **_terrifying_ ** _. Byleth continued to stare up at him. Dimitri felt for a moment as if she could see into his very soul, could see the engorged falsehoods interwoven with the meager truths he_ **_did_ ** _offer._

_"We should head back soon." The prince finally said quietly, averting his eyes. "It's...rude of me to keep you all to myself. Shall we, Professor?"_

_When he offered her his arm this time, she ignored it in favor of lacing their fingers in a much more intimate manner. Dimitri flushed, grateful for the darkness of the tower to hide his red complexion. The professor said nothing the entire walk back to the main hall, but at one point she rested her head against his shoulder._

_More than anything in that moment, Dimitri wished to stop and embrace her. He wished to believe in the power of his wish. But without a future to promise…_

_No. He would not inflict such a pointless burden upon her. No matter how much it cost his heart, it was better this way. He would simply have to value their closeness that much more for the limited time that it was available to him._

…

Dimitri spent a good portion of time in the cathedral, muttering to himself and studying the marble floor so intently it seemed he would burn a hole in it. Byleth tried to speak to him, but unless she brought news of Imperial activities the prince didn't reply.

One such day, after being brushed off yet again, she was surprised to have Felix usher her into one of the alcoves where a statue had once been.

"Hello." Felix began stiffly. Even that was downright conversational compared to how he usually spoke. Byleth was instantly on edge. "I have a request concerning that... _creature_ ." He jerked his chin toward Dimitri's large form. "I can hardly _look_ at that thing in the state it's in." His eyes locked with Byleth's, the young man's expression dark. " _Do something about it_."

"I'll...I'll see what I can do?" The woman replied slowly.

"Please do." Felix slouched against the pillar, his attention back on Dimitri. "We tracked the boar for _five years_. I thought he was dead. In the state he's in, he might as well be." The dark-haired man grumbled. "He's gotten better at killing people, and in exchange, surrendered what little humanity he had."

Despite his cool demeanor, it was obvious that Felix still cared a great deal for the other young man. "Do you have any ideas?" Byleth asked.

Felix shook his head. "I have spent far too long pushing the boar prince away. He would not listen to anything I have to offer." 

"Any input you have is welcome all the same."

Regret tinged his voice. "My elder brother died in his service, in Duscur. My father, Lord Rodrigue, handled the news in the only way he knew how: by praising my brother's commitment and sacrifice. I, however, lashed out at Dimitri for allowing my brother to die in his stead." He held up a hand when Byleth opened her mouth. "I understand that knights fight and die for their masters. It was merely because it was my brother that I attacked him."

"Yes, but surely-"

"Two years later, the prince and I were sent to quell a rebellion of the Duscur people." Felix was almost whispering, as though he didn't want anyone else to hear. "Dimitri was at the helm of the whole affair, to the confusion of _many_ generals. The atrocities I saw that day...we were _children_ , professor. I was just a squire; _he_ couldn't have been older than sixteen, and yet the Kingdom councillors decided that the lone brat with no other heirs to the throne was the only suitable candidate to spearhead the attack." Felix's eyes narrowed. "They essentially set him loose on demoralized troops and watched him clumsily kill. A wild boar maddened with rage and inexperience, enjoying its first rampage." He tilted his head. "It seems incredibly suspect, now that I am older. Even if he was the most decorated man in the entire army, _why_ would you send the last member of the royal bloodline out on such a mundane maneuver?"

"He mentioned the rebellion to me before. He said it was easy. _Too_ easy. A slaughter." Byleth replied, keeping her voice quiet. "Do you think someone was hoping he would die in that conflict? Or maybe they _wanted_ him to get a taste for blood?"

He shook his head. "It could be neither or both. It doesn't matter at this point, though I will say that my recollection of the events is not clouded by time or _mania_. If I had to hazard a guess, it is almost as if the whole rebellion was orchestrated. Duscur warriors were practically throwing themselves into the prince's path." Felix said bluntly. "We know that Cornelia has been scheming for many years. It wouldn't surprise me if this is all according to plan."

Byleth's head felt as though it was spinning. Could it be true, that the Empire's conspiracy against the Kingdom wove that deeply into Dimitri's troubled past? 

Felix heaved a sigh, pulling her from her thoughts. "This is all just useless speculation. Look, he listens to you for _whatever_ reason. So again, _do something_. I don't care what. Imprison him, beat him, whatever it is that you think will work. Anything is better than watching him waste away like this."

...

Gilbert had planned well for their first attempt at staving off the Empire. Though their battalions were much slimmer than the Imperial forces, the elder knight had devised a truly clever strategy. 

A well-placed firebomb attack thoroughly decimated the horde of soldiers clashing with them. Dimitri could hear Randolph, that _snake_ , shrieking orders to his men to fall back as the monastery forces of Garreg Mach doggedly pushed forward.

Fire raged all around them, the pitiful scrub bushes reduced to ash in minutes. Several of the dilapidated defense towers had also started to burn, flames licking at the sides. Dimitri's headache intensified at the smell of hot metal and smoke and he winced, pressing a hand to his temple to alleviate the splitting pain.

His slowed pace led to him falling behind his troops' advance. Dimitri scanned the battlefield, telling himself he didn't know who he was looking for. But...

There was an ominous creak overhead and Dimitri glanced up, only to be treated to a shower of smoldering debris. To the left of him, Byleth didn't seem to have noticed the danger the weakened towers posed. Either that or she didn't care. 

The dead heart in his chest leaped. _She'll be crushed, burned, trapped-_

Dimitri bolted forward, shouting, "Professor! Get down!" He cursed inwardly when Byleth stopped and turned at the sound of his voice. Crowned with a halo of brilliant orange light, just as she had been all those years ago…

_Goddess-touched, Sothis' right hand_.

The tower teetered and began to collapse, no time left to escape the framework. Dimitri caught hold of her sleeve and managed to take her to the ground, throwing a metal-plated arm over her head to shield her while chunks of flaming debris rained down around them. She stared up at him, eyes wide, not even flinching when a hulking truss beam missed them by mere inches.

Dimitri opened his mouth to say something, berate her maybe, he wasn't sure _what_ , and then Randolph's form emerged from the hellish smoke. "The one-eyed demon! So it's _you!_ " The general yelled, leveling his axe at him, " _You're_ the one who's been going around killing the Imperial troops!"

Dimitri bared his teeth and snarled deep in his chest as the commander advanced. "What is it to you?" The tower wreckage still roared with flames around he and Byleth, but it would do them no good if they were both slain. 

The once-prince scrambled to find a solution while Randolph accused, "You _bastard!_ Life is worthless to you, isn't it?!"

Dimitri's laugh was an ugly, rasping noise, utterly devoid of humor. "You took the words from my mouth, _general_." He abruptly seized Byleth's arm, dragged her upright and simply ordered, "jump." 

She obeyed without hesitation. Dimitri flung her _over_ Randolph's head with all of his strength, not caring particularly much where she landed as long as she was out of harm's way. 

The once-prince then brandished his lance, grinning fiendishly at the new look of shock on Randolph's face. "I'll destroy you, dog of Edelgard!" He proclaimed. 

Another fiery support hit the ground between them, the charred wood splintering loudly on impact. Randolph was clearly unsettled, the commander taking a single step back. "You...you're a monster! You care nothing for the people you've slaughtered!" He stammered. Dimitri hefted his lance, simply waiting for the other man to charge him.

In a single instant, it was over. One swing of Randolph's axe, one thrust of his lance.

Randolph collapsed, barely alive at Dimitri's feet. "Capture him." The once-prince ordered coldly after he pulled his lance free of the man's chest. Gilbert appeared out of the haze, lashing Randolph's hands together. 

"I have family waiting for me. Please...I can't die here." Randolph begged once his axe had been torn from his grasp.

"A beast of your depravity, prattling on about family? How amusing." Dimitri sneered, using the butt of his lance to shove Randolph onto his back.

"As though you could understand...such a thing as love. You heartless _monster!_ " Randolph spat defiantly up at him, struggling to right himself. 

"You are a monster too, general. You have just yet to realize it." Dimitri leaned on his lance, studying the general with one cold blue eye. "A monster who thinks he's a man... _despicable_ . As a general, you must have killed countless souls without a _shred_ of mercy." The once-prince crouched, fisting a hand in Randolph's hair and making the other man look directly at him. "Do you remember the sound of them _begging_ , just as you're begging now? Or, now that your life is at its end, will you hold to the lie that your hands are not stained red with blood?"

"This...is war. I did what I had to for the Empire, for the people...for my _family!_ " Randolph sounded desperate.

Dimitri chuckled mirthlessly, releasing the hold he had on the man's hair and rising to stand once more. "So, you are piling up corpses for the _people_ and your _family_ . And I am doing the same for the salvation of the dead." He mused, "After all is said and done we are _both_ murderers, _both_ stained. Both monsters."

"You're wrong!" Randolph cried frantically.

"Am I?" Dimitri challenged. "I can _smell_ the rotting flesh upon your hands even now, _General_."

"Enough! That's enough!" The Imperial screamed, shaking his head as if to dislodge Dimitri's cruel observation.

"I won't kill you right away, my fellow monster." Dimitri continued over the general's pitiful caterwauling. The dead surged forward, gleefully demanding, bony fingers clutching at his shoulders. "Unless you object to watching your friends die. One. By. _One_." Dimitri's fingers grazed the patch that covered his right eye. "If so, I will do you the service of removing your eyes first, so that-"

He had been leaning in, so intent on the look of horrified despair on the dying man's face that he failed to notice Byleth approaching. Her sword flashed once and Randolph gurgled something, a name, " _forgive me_ …" as he expired.

Dimitri straightened up to his full height, glaring at his former professor. Byleth had _stolen_ that man's fear and death from him. Even now, his grip on his lance tightened. Would he really _kill_ her over something like this? Goddess, he might. What kind of monster _was_ he? 

"What is the meaning of this?" He gritted through his clenched teeth, struggling desperately to keep a handle on his temper.

"I miss the Dimitri I once knew." Her voice was so soft, he almost missed what she said. 

Dimitri barely managed to maintain his composure at _that_ . If he could call shouting at someone maintaining his composure, that is. "The Dimitri you once knew is _dead!_ " He barked. "All that remains is this repulsive, blood-stained monster you see before you. If you do not approve of what I have become, then _kill me_." 

He cupped her chin and forced her to look up at him. Her eyes were so bright, shimmering with tears, but she defiantly refused to let them fall. The sight cooled his rage, but only just. 

"If you insist that you cannot, then I will continue to use you and your friends until the flesh _falls from your bones_." He finished firmly, releasing her and stepping back. 

_As though you could understand...such a thing as love…_

Randolph's words rang in Dimitri's mind long after their troops had dispersed over the battlefield to gather the wounded and bury the dead. The once-prince hated those damn words. He had been a _fool_. Throwing himself into danger to shield Byleth, only to have her turn around and betray him by killing Randolph herself!

Goddess, his head ached. 

…

_Her animalistic wail of agony caught everyone off guard. Their professor, who had only just begun to_ **_smile_ ** _in the presence of her students, appeared to have entirely lost her composure._

_Her father was dead. Dimitri knew the anguish that she felt all too well. He could practically see himself in her, weeping against her father's chest and pleading with Jeralt to open his eyes._

_Dimitri had done much the same when his own father had been slain, begging and bargaining with anything that might have been listening,_ **_don't leave me all alone!_ **

_Gently but firmly, the prince took Byleth's hand and started tugging her to her feet. She tried to refuse at first, clinging to his hand and Captain Jeralt's body with equal fervor. Dimitri managed the task all the same, hesitating for a moment before wrapping the young woman in his arms._

_She sobbed hysterically into his soaked gambeson, her hands clenching into fists in the tough fabric. It was as though something had snapped inside her; the proverbial dam had been broken and now all her sadness came pouring out in a torrent. It was a bit frightening to see her so utterly destroyed, but also understandable. Dimitri simply stayed silent and let her weep, one hand slowly stroking her back._

_"Your Highness," Sylvain said quietly after several minutes had passed. "Ashe and I are gonna' go fetch the knights. We can't leave Captain Jeralt in the rain like this."_

_"Of course. See that you remain vigilant. Monica or_ **_whoever_ ** _she is might still be out there."_

_The professor's hold on Dimitri loosened at his words and she pulled back, taking a shuddering breath. The look on her face broke the prince's heart all over again. She was defeated, in pieces, and he could not think of a single comforting thing to say. He himself had grown indelibly weary of the platitudes of strangers after he had lost every ally and friend to the fires of Duscur._

_Dimitri shook his head when she opened her mouth. "Don't, Professor. It is better if you do not speak right now." He murmured. "It is still too new and fresh, and it is_ **_far_ ** _too easy to say something you will regret."_

_"I'll_ **_kill_ ** _her." Professor Byleth gasped._

_"That much we can agree on."_

_She went on to sequester herself in her room for several days after the incident. Professors Manuela and Hanneman divided her workload so the students were not left wanting for education. They_ **_were_ ** _, however, left to worry about their beloved professor Byleth._

_When Dimitri happened upon the young woman in her late father's office, he could tell that she had been weeping recently. She started when he spoke to her, as though she hadn't noticed his approach._

_"Professor! You're out and about! I was...we all were...er, you've been on our minds." Dimitri tried to keep his voice soft, explaining that Rhea had asked for Byleth's presence. "And after that, why don't you join me in the dining hall? You haven't eaten since...since it happened, have you." Her expression didn't change but Dimitri could_ **_feel_ ** _the nervous energy coming off of her. He quickly backtracked, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Forgive me. I suppose it's too soon to try and coax you back into the normal swing of things."_

_"Forgive my absence, please." She said softly._

_"You have_ **_nothing_ ** _to apologize for, Professor." Dimitri replied, perhaps a touch too quickly. "As for what happened to Jeralt...I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to stop it. Stay here until you've found some peace." He implored her. "I'll cover for you with Lady Rhea and everyone else."_

_"Thank you." The professor sniffled and Dimitri felt his composure waver._

_"We'll be waiting for you whenever you're ready to return to us." He promised, offering her a thin smile. "I don't believe it's a sign of strength to just keep moving forward no matter what. Taking the time to grieve for those we've lost...there's strength in that too." He carefully reached out, and she put her hand into his after a moment. "That's what I think, anyway."_

_"I am so weary of crying, but it's all I seem to do these days." Byleth whispered._

_"It's also important to remember that no matter how sad you are, eventually your tears will dry up. Eventually you will forgive yourself, as well as forgive your father for leaving you. That's when you have to figure out what it is you're living for. Then, you can cling to that with all your might, and start moving forward again."_

_"What I'm living for?" She echoed his words listlessly._

_"Four years ago in Duscur, I experienced the same pain you're feeling now." Dimitri disliked speaking about Duscur. It always reminded him of what he had yet to accomplish. "My father was the strongest man I knew. Someone I loved and admired deeply. That day, he was killed before my eyes. His head severed clean off." Dimitri took a shuddering breath, the memory still difficult to recount even all these years later. "My stepmother, the kindest person I had ever known, left me behind and disappeared into the infernal flames."_

_He took a moment to master himself, ashamed at how lacking his control was. His professor squeezed his hand, as though encouraging him to carry on. Even in her sorrow, she was so kind._

_"Everyone who I considered precious...my family and my closest friends. I couldn't save any of them. Not a single one." Dimitri continued quietly. "Now, the burden of the work they left behind falls on me. I must ensure they have no regrets. That's my duty, as the sole survivor of the Tragedy." He admitted, "it's a heavy burden, but accepting it gave me the strength to pick myself up off the ground and start moving again. Start_ **_living_ ** _again."_

_Byleth gave a little sob at that._

_Dimitri clasped her hands between his own and held them to his heart, trying to offer_ **_some_ ** _sort of comfort. "Jeralt is gone. So what will you do now, Professor? What_ **_must_ ** _you do? Look deep in your heart and I'm certain you'll find the answer there, indelible and inescapable."_

_She met his eyes for the first time and Dimitri was struck by how fragile she seemed, as though the slightest breeze might rend her asunder._

_"I've probably bothered you enough for today, but I have just_ **_one_ ** _more thought to leave you with." Dimitri said apologetically. "Even now, Seteth is gathering the knights to begin a full-scale search for the enemy. It may not be right away, but before long they_ **_will_ ** _find their trail."_

_"I will kill her." Byleth said fiercely, a touch of her old fire returning._

_The blond nodded his assent. "No matter what happens or what anyone may say, know that I plan to stand by you, Professor. Through anything. Until the bitter end." He swore fervently, his gaze unwavering. "Know that your enemies are my enemies. I will do all I can to help you find justice. There is no one else I can…" Dimitri paused, searching for the right words. "My strength is yours alone."_

_"You cannot promise such things, your Highness." Byleth protested. "You must think of-"_

_"I will fight as you command. I will kill anyone should you ask it of me." Dimitri insisted. "I would promise this to anyone I hold in high regard, Professor."_

_That was an absolute, bold-faced lie. He had refused to engage in the folly of swearing his time and energy to causes he may not survive to see, but this…_

_The distress of his dear professor tore him apart and more than anything, Dimitri wanted to help her. He wanted to be someone that she could depend on, no matter the cost. And so, even though it was against his modus operandi, the prince charged himself with helping to secure and execute her revenge._

...

The cathedral guard waved her over and Byleth approached, slightly apprehensive. "Professor, I...that creature, I saw him interacting with the monastery orphans earlier." He whispered conspiratorially once she was within earshot, doing his best to point at Dimitri without _actually_ pointing at him. "He even pet one of them on the head! I didn't think that someone like him was capable of...I mean, he didn't _smile_ or anything. But still, I found it strange and I thought you should know." 

Byleth thanked the guard for his report and proceeded to mull the new information over. Many of their ragtag army thought the once-prince a monster, and all of his behavior seemed to confirm their suspicions. So what was this odd flash of humanity? She had feared after Randolph that Dimitri was beyond saving, but perhaps…

She needed to talk to several people immediately. Starting with Mercedes. Luckily, the other woman wasn't exactly difficult to track down.

"A choir recital to boost morale and camaraderie?" The normally calm and reserved Mercedes looked like she was about to burst with excitement when Byleth pitched the idea. "That's a wonderful idea! I thought as much myself, but I didn't want to be presumptuous. Are you certain it will be alright if we use the cathedral to rehearse, professor?"

"Of course. I already cleared it with Seteth." _Or I will, anyway_. "Your group can have it in the afternoons. In the mornings, I'm hoping I can get Gilbert and Sylvain to help me with another little project. Oh, maybe Felix too…" Byleth trailed off, tapping her chin. "If I were you, I would ask Manuela for a hand."

"You're absolutely right!" Mercedes agreed with a smile. "And I'm sure Annie will help out too! What's your project, Professor?"

"We have a lot of children around because of the conflicts. I figure if they're going to be here, the ones who want to learn to keep themselves safe should have the opportunity."

…

Gilbert sat atop a large chunk of rubble from the caved-in roof, whittling away at a small piece of basswood. A cluster of younger children gathered at his feet, watching him work with rapt attention. A few of them were already playing with tiny dolls or horses. The old knight had clearly been busy.

The older children were organized into straggling lines facing where the altar had been. Sylvain, Felix and Alois filtered through the ranks to straighten postures or adjust grips on training weapons as needed, while Professor Byleth led the simple stance drills. 

Dimitri hovered in the main cathedral entryway, irritated and fascinated all at once. It would seem that the dreary space he had haunted was _overrun_ with excited, chattering children. Was it brighter in the cathedral today, or was that merely his fancy talking?

Felix was _smiling_. That image alone gave him a considerable amount of pause. True, it was nothing more than a slight upturn at the edge of his mouth, but that was more than he'd displayed in Dimitri's presence for over ten years.

"Oh, your Highness! What brings you here?" Mercedes' gentle voice interrupted his troubled musings. 

Dimitri inclined his head so she would know he had heard her, though he did not face or trouble himself to answer her. She approached on his blind side and Dimitri tensed reflexively, only letting his shoulders drop once she was fully within view.

"Are you having fun watching, your Highness? I get like that too sometimes. It's a lot of effort to join people, and plus, what would I even say?" Mercedes laughed softly. 

"Indeed." Dimitri replied curtly.

"Oh, is the professor waving at you? Or me? Hello, Professor!" Mercedes waved back excitedly and Dimitri seized her distraction to lurch forward into the cathedral, heading for one of the side courtyards. His routine would not be discarded simply because of some misguided training practice, how _dare_ -

Mercedes words struck him anew. _What would I even say?_ Truly, what _could_ he say? The dead demanded Edelgard, screamed and clamored for her head. He would not let his departed family and friends languish while that _witch_ roamed free. They must be allowed to rest easy with no regrets, regardless of what it cost him.

Brow furrowed, he continued forward past the pile of rubble from where the roof had given way. Gilbert offered him a silent nod, which Dimitri returned on his way to the door. Once he reached it, he engaged in his pastime of studying the cracked marble beneath his boots and fervently assuring his ghostly comrades that he would be triumphant over Edelgard.

He could not be sure how long he stood there. His nights were sleepless, melting together with his days in a haze of impatience. He was used to surviving on stolen minutes of respite, the meager times when the dead allowed him peace.

At some point, the sword practice with children changed to choir practice with adults. A multitude of former students, knights and professors all gathered to rehearse, give well-meaning pointers and seemingly just enjoy each other's company. Though his professor ( _former_ professor, Dimitri corrected himself furiously) had been busy all morning, she stayed for the choir practice as well. 

Dimitri soon found himself listening instead of brooding, but he kept his gaze on the floor. Some of the songs were old hymns that he had heard in his youth, while others hailed from the Mittelfrank opera stage. A strange combination. His stepmother had loved singing, though the late king and his son shared a mutual tonedeaf gene that threatened to ruin her performances. Dimitri could only just remember the way his father would interrupt her, making her sigh with his noble, kingly attempts to carry a tune. 

Another bittersweet memory. It felt...precious. Dimitri looked up from the floor and caught Professor Byleth watching him. She raised an eyebrow and made a subtle gesture with her hand. _Join us?_

Dimitri turned on his heel and departed.

…

_Claude turned on his heel and escorted the professor of the Blue Lions out onto the dance floor, weaving between the other dancers in a strange pattern that was absolutely contrary to the stately Faerghus waltz playing._

_Dimitri had to laugh at the professor's deadpan expression, apologizing to his partner hastily and then moving to intervene. "Claude!" He called, chuckling when the head of Golden Deer rushed to hand Professor Byleth off to Lorenz. "Transparent as ever, my friend!"_

_"Hey, your house can't hog the new professor_ **_all_ ** _the time. I'm just sharing the love." Claude reasoned, slinging an arm around Dimitri's shoulders. The leader of the Golden Deer house then easily swung the prince into a passing semblance of a waltz, the two of them having a grand time trying to dodge each other's feet. "It's nice to see her enjoying herself though." Claude mused._

_"I know what you mean." Dimitri agreed, "I wonder if the mercenary life was too lonely for her?"_

_"Probably too boring!" Claude grinned. "We've kept her pretty busy with our antics."_

_"That much cannot be denied."_

_Dimitri's mind wandered back to Flayn trying to teach Byleth to dance, the way the professor had_ **_smiled_ ** _, her eyes fairly luminous with excitement._

_Dimitri had been roped into the lesson as a partner for the professor, Flayn stating that he was the obvious choice due to his height and familiarity with the dances. He was hesitant at first, wary of where to put his hands. He_ **_knew_ ** _, of course, but the idea of actually touching her was-_

_He wasn't sure why his heart had been pounding so hard. Even now, as he watched her get passed from Golden Deer to Golden Deer during a rousing folk reel that originated in the Leicester Alliance, his heart tripped wildly in his chest. How peculiar._

_"The Fox Chase, your Kingliness!" Claude said excitedly, bowing and then catching both of Dimitri's hands. "C'mon, stop gawking and get back in here!"_

_"Claude-!" Dimitri protested, his discomfort notwithstanding as Claude dragged him around._

_Abruptly, no doubt due to more wily Golden Deer machinations, the prince and Professor Byleth were side by side. The future leader of the Alliance vanished back into the crowd, leaving Dimitri standing alone. Byleth looked up at him, her cheeks flushed with exertion and her eyes sparkling in the soft light from the chandelier. "Enjoying yourself, your Highness?" She asked, as though they weren't in the middle of a swirling maelstrom of students._

_Dimitri found himself grinning broadly back at her, accepting the hand she extended to him. "I am now, Professor."_

…

It would seem that his once-solitary space had been permanently commandeered. Dimitri couldn't even find it in his blackened heart to complain, resorting to glowering at the ground in the courtyard doorway instead of the middle of the ruined chancel. 

One day, a small girl hid under his cloak without him noticing. Indeed, he might have continued being oblivious, had she not giggled wildly when her friend dashed by calling her name. Dimitri grunted, startled by the closeness of laughter as well as the slight tugging on his heavy cloak. 

He turned, fixing his lone blue eye on the offending party that was currently _playing_ in the thick folds of his mantle. The child froze, seeming to realize she was under scrutiny, and peeked up at him. 

Her eyes met his own. He watched as they darted to the patch that covered his right eye, yet there was no fear. Slight apprehension, perhaps, maybe she thought she would be scolded. Dimitri was confused by her lack of terror. The knights and monks said horrendous things about him, most of them true. He had become a butcher, a monster. Surely this child had been warned away from him. _Surely_.

"You look lonely. Do you want to play with us?" The little girl asked, her words laden with a child's curiosity. 

"No." Dimitri paused after her face fell, then gritted out, "You ought to stay away from me." _Fool, why would you say something like that?!_

"Why? You've been so sad ever since you came back. Is it because you miss your friend?" She queried. "The Duscur man who took care of the flowers?" _Dedue_. Emotion forced Dimitri to clear his throat. She must be one of the original waifs from the monastery if she could recall Dedue. "You still have your other friends though! I know that the professor wishes you would come over." The child confided, standing up on her tiptoes in an attempt to whisper to him.

"I'm certain she does. I am not deserving of such consideration." Dimitri replied brusquely. His hand rested briefly atop the little girl's head. "You should run along now." She actually grabbed his other hand and _yanked_ , trying to get him to come with her. She might as well have tried to move a boulder. "Go on." Dimitri ordered, not unkindly. 

"Nuh uh! Mercedes made sweets today, and you're always _standing_ over here staring at Professor-"

" _Child_." Dimitri muttered, getting down on one knee so that he could attempt to be eye level with the girl. She looked thoroughly incensed at his firm refusal and it made him want to laugh. "Sometimes...there are people like me in this world who are not meant to be around other people." He knew his explanation was clumsy at best, but trying to simplify such a complicated thing was not easily managed.

"Can I bring you a cake, then? If I run over and get it so you don't have to?" She was _bargaining_ with him, of all things. 

The once-prince sighed heavily and nodded, waiting until she had started running to Mercedes before he left. Better to disappoint her than encourage her behavior. 

…

_"You need to be careful." Dedue chastised him, reaching over to try and salvage the mangled flower. "If you are not decisive with your action, you will destroy the plant."_

_"I apologize, Dedue. I am not accustomed to such delicate work." Dimitri sighed, abandoning his efforts._

_"It is alright. These are very small flowers, after all."_

_They had been tasked with gathering the centerpieces for the dining hall and Dimitri had been determined to do an excellent job. But his hands were so indelicate that he was doing more butchering than gardening._

_"How do you manage it?" He asked the Duscur man curiously. Dedue's hands were just as large as his own, yet he seemed to have no trouble whatsoever._

_Dedue did not answer for a moment. When he did, his voice was strangely soft. "My sister loved to coax flowers to life even in the worst terrain. This is simple, compared to that."_

_Dimitri fell silent and Dedue worked on, easily separating out sprigs of foliage for them to use. "I...I am sorry, Dedue. I should not be so thoughtless." The prince felt like he ought to be whispering for some reason. Dedue did not speak often of his late family members, all slaughtered in the Tragedy of Duscur._

_"Do not apologize. You have done nothing wrong." Dedue stared down at the bundle of vibrant blooms in their basket. "Through my actions, through my words, they live on. As long as I remember them, they will rest easily."_

_"You do her memory such honor, Dedue." The notion of not striking back against the people who had taken his loved ones from him, but instead attempting to spread the knowledge that they had left him with..._

_"That is all I can hope for, your Highness." Dedue handed Dimitri back his shears and gestured to another flower with a tentative smile. "Here, try again."_

...

He told himself he wasn't avoiding the cathedral, he was simply _choosing_ to aimlessly wander the monastery grounds. People stayed out of his way for the most part, though the children had a tendency to gather and _frolic_ around him like he was some kind of sentient, roaming maypole. 

Dimitri spent his nights in the cathedral, though he wasn't sure why. The dormitories had been thoroughly examined and found structurally sound. His personal quarters were not wanting, and he certainly wasn't a _pious_ man, especially not now with his hands soaked in blood. Best that he not trouble the Goddess with his pitiful pleas for aid in revenge. She had blessed him with Byleth's return, after all, a truly fine tool for his crusade. What more could he wish for?

Still he sat in one of the worn pews, night after night, and simply watched the coming and going of worshippers until he couldn't force himself to stay awake any longer.

He never slept for too long. Sometimes he awoke to find that a small meal had been left on the bench adjacent to him, tied up in one of the many napkins from the dining hall. It vexed him greatly to know that _someone_ had been able to get that close, unconscious though he might be. 

His head ached constantly. Every day that they spent plotting and gathering their strength was a day that he didn't have Edelgard's lifeless corpse to present to his dearly departed loved ones. Their cries for revenge were maddening, all-consuming; it was no wonder he slept poorly.

Then came the fateful evening he stumbled upon the professor sound asleep beneath the pews. Byleth was curled up against the chill in the air, and a familiar bundle of cloth on the bench above her caught Dimitri's eye. The tall man carefully untied the knot in the napkin, revealing several rations of bread, one precious sweet bun, a piece of cheese and a peach. It would appear he had found the person who could sneak up on him while he slumbered. 

The dark circles under her eyes were far too pronounced. They nearly matched his own. She was working more than she needed to, just as she had done when he had simply been her student.

Dimitri unclasped his heavy cloak before he realized what he was doing. When he noticed, he hesitated, fingers digging into the mane of thick fur. Wasn't this foolish of him? But then, he already knew he was a fool. If he was being honest with himself, if he still had the capacity to feel such things, he was absolutely smitten with his dear professor.

A beast like him didn't deserve such a vibrant and joyous soul at his side. His hands were unable to be gentle, his humanity surrendered years ago to hone his ability to take life. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, fallen princeling, heir to a fractured kingdom, knew all too well that his greatest shortcoming was his greed. It came in the form of lust for victory, his desire to have his cake and glut himself on it. 

He scoffed at his thoughts, wrapped Byleth in his cloak and then lifted her from the floor.

Dimitri had only carried her once before.

…

_She had been gifted the power of the Goddess herself. Her hair and eyes had shifted to a vibrant green, echoing all the imagery of Saint Seiros. It was as though the old tales had come to life before his very eyes._

" _Professor! What's wrong?!" Dimitri was concerned when she abruptly collapsed after their battle with Solon, but his worry faded as he realized she was merely asleep. "Professor, now is not the time nor the place for such an activity!" The prince scolded her fruitlessly, unfastening his half cape._

_It was a simple enough matter to swaddle her in the fabric, but then he paused. Propriety dictated that he should wait until another professor or one of the knights had arrived to manage the situation. However, propriety had never been one of his strong suits._

_"Looks like you'll be riding with me, Professor. Dedue, please hand her up to me once I've mounted." The blond man vaulted back into the saddle of his destrier and settled the professor's slumbering form in front of him, then picked up the reins._

_Their return to the monastery was slow. Everyone was exhausted, to say the least. Mercedes had nearly lost consciousness due to her focus on healing, and as such was currently being assisted by the stoic Dedue. Flayn was the only one who appeared unaffected by the battle, the young woman chattering away enthusiastically even with Ashe's arm slung over her shoulder. It was heartening to see that she had not allowed the bloodshed to rattle her._

_Professor Byleth seemed so small when she was asleep. She barely weighed anything; Dimitri easily held her steady on his horse with a single arm around her waist. She ended up slumped against his chest, her head tucked underneath his chin. Dimitri forced his eyes forward, attempting to focus on the trail back to the monastery instead of on his professor's proximity._

_He heard Mercedes sleepily ask, "Do you think she'll be alright?"_

_"I have no doubt. Our professor is quite strong." Dedue assured the young woman. "_ **_You_ ** _, on the other hand, will need proper food and rest before you attempt such reckless behavior again."_

_"Reckless? I was only doing what I was supposed to." Mercedes protested._

_"You must be aware of your own limitations. Do not forget that I am here to assist as well." Flayn said cheerily. "I feel that we did an excellent job, considering that we were walking into an obvious trap!"_

_Dimitri turned his head and very nearly asked what the hell she was talking about, but he held his tongue at the last moment. Flayn was a mysterious creature; she never seemed to have a straight answer for_ **_anything_ ** _. And even when she_ **_did_ ** _answer, it rarely solved the query being posed. Better that he save himself the frustration of her circular replies._

_Eyes forward once more, the prince trusted his destrier to find a path of least resistance as his mind wandered._

_It_ **_must_ ** _have been a trap, meant to goad the professor into coming alone. Her father's murderers, all in one spot? It was too convenient. The enemy didn't seem to have counted on her returning from whatever spell that had been._ **_The Forbidden Spell_ ** _…_

_Dimitri had no real talent for magic. His family Crest amplifying his strength saw to that. But he knew a few things from his schooling. Such as, the more raw energy or potential put into a spell, the more powerful it was. Solon had ripped the very_ **_heart_ ** _out of Kronya to fuel his dark magics. Dimitri had watched the old man crush the still-beating organ like it was nothing. The memory of the dense purple haze that had arose sent shudders down the prince's spine. There was something innately_ **_wrong_ ** _about such things. Blood magic, sacrificial amplification...it all made his skin crawl._

_Dimitri found himself holding their professor a little tighter as they rode. He wasn't certain why, maybe it was simply his prior trauma talking, but he felt a strange fear about her being taken from them once more._

_Byleth murmured something in her sleep. On her hip, the seemingly-awakened Sword of the Creator pulsed with light like it was a living thing._

_This entire situation was so incredibly bizarre._

…

"That is House Rowe's banner. They curried favor with that _witch_ and sold out Faerghus." Dimitri had assumed his supply of disdain had run dry, yet he still felt a sneer curl his lip. "To think that they would vanguard a corpse to fend us off, as if we are nothing but a _nuisance_."

The notion that Viscount Rowe would muster troops, send that _decrepit_ warrior into this inhospitable area to ensure Rodrigue's men would have no Kingdom Army to join...it made Dimitri want to hilt his lance in the dastard's chest. Ailell's heated environment was like Hell itself for anyone in armor, the bubbling pools of lava all around them enough to give the most seasoned of knights pause. Even though Dimitri had dismissed Gilbert's old wives' tale of the Valley's creation, it wasn't difficult to see how the legend might have been born. This cursed place did indeed seem as though it had been brought about by a Goddess' fury.

The Gray Lion, withered and laughably past his prime, raised his lance in challenge from across the cracked obsidian landscape. 

"Will you have us meet them in battle, or wait for Lord Rodrigue to arrive?" Gilbert asked the once-prince cautiously.

"There is only one option." Dimitri bared his teeth in a wicked grin. "How kind of them to save us the trouble of killing them later."

Byleth opened her mouth, no doubt about to say something foolish like _weren't they your allies once_ or _shouldn't we wait for Rodrigue_.

Dimitri headed her off, half-tempted to press a finger to her lips to hush her. "That banner belongs to the Gray Lion of House Rowe, Lord Gwendal. It's a waste of breath to exchange words with one such as him." The young man informed her curtly. 

"His Highness is correct. He is not an opponent whom we can expect to negotiate with." Gilbert agreed. He then raised his voice to address their meager troops, "everyone! Prepare for the attack!"

Their formations were bare bones. Dimitri did not fear for their victory though. This would be the final time Count Rowe's loyal dog Gwendal rode out to battle.

Gouts of fire spouted from either side of the relative pathway forward, the lava agitated by the motions of the two forces preparing to collide. "So, the flames of torment burn your sins, your life, your everything." The prince mused, half to himself. "If you wish to spare yourself the Goddess' wrath, Professor, tread lightly."

Byleth nodded and readied her sword. 

Their soldiers fought bravely, and when Rodrigue arrived it offered Dimitri the opening he needed to get within striking distance of Gwendal.

"The man praised as a lion is degraded to a mere traitor's underling." Dimitri sneered at the mounted knight, adjusting his grip on his lance. _Horse first, then man_.

"A traitor's underling?! That's upsetting, your Highness!" Gwendal protested. "I am and always have been a knight of House Rowe!"

"How _dare_ you." Dimitri's voice dipped into a furious gravel. "You are nothing but a lowly beast scavenging for scraps! You have forgotten the dignity of knighthood." 

"I may be _lowly_. But this beast is devoted to his master!" The elderly knight proclaimed.

"Ha! Then I had better kill the pet and deliver its head to that master." After that grim declaration, Dimitri swung his lance with all his strength into the legs of Lord Gwendal's horse. Both man and beast crashed to the ground, and Dimitri wasted no more time with words.

The blade of his lance pierced Gwendal's armor before sinking home and the old man wheezed, "ah, so I _have_ found a place to die. Young ones...your Highness...I thank you…" There was the barest hint of a smile on that scarred face.

Dimitri pulled the lance free, shuddering before he could stop himself. He loathed the eerie calm in Gwendal's voice when he had expired, as though this was all the elderly man had wanted. To be slain in battle, just another casualty of war.

The professor came up alongside him, standing there silently until Dimitri looked up. "Lord Fraldarius is waiting for you, your Highness." She informed him. 

Dimitri nodded, straightening his gauntlets. His hair was hopeless from the heat and grime, but it was not as if Rodrigue cared about such things. Who on earth was he preening himself for? Beside him, Byleth subtly brushed some ash off his shoulder and repositioned his heavy cape. Goddess, _why_ had he worn the damn thing? 

"It's been too long, your Highness. But try to temper your joy, will you? This is a war, after all." Rodrigue jibed as he bowed to the prince.

Dimitri huffed, shaking his head. "To say such a thing at a time like this...you have not changed one bit." His respect for the man across from him took some of the venom out of his exasperated words.

"Don't let looks deceive you. I've had a rough go of it ever since I crossed blades with those traitors in Fhirdiad." Rodrigue _did_ seem haggard, but Dimitri had assumed that was merely the heat of their locale getting to the older man. "When I heard you'd been executed, I rushed there as fast as I could, blind with fury. Once I got there, I was fed some _garbage_ about not being able to see your body. The next thing I knew, I was gripping my blade and-" 

Felix interrupted his father's impassioned recounting with a loud snort, seeming to bring the older man back to himself.

Rodrigue gestured to Gilbert, gratitude plain on his face. "Gilbert, you have done well to locate his Highness. I am truly grateful." He then turned towards Byleth with a smile. "And you! I have you to thank, as well."

"We were all very fortunate." Byleth replied solemnly, bowing to the noble.

"Well, we are in your debt. I will repay you for this someday, I swear it." Rodrigue promised. "And you, Felix. You have also done well to bring his Highness here."

Felix glared at his father and said nothing. Dimitri could feel the irritation coming off the younger man in waves. He decided that they had prattled on long enough, finally asking Rodrigue for whatever information he could give them.

Unfortunately, the older man had precious little to offer in that regard. Gilbert's own information filled in the gaps in his limited dialogue, painting a grim picture of behind the scenes machinations on behalf of Cornelia and the Empire.

"So _that's_ been the witch's plan from the start. I should have killed her ages ago." Dimitri growled.

"Your Highness, Fhirdiad is in a terrible state right now. The tyranny is unbearable, and so the rebellions are endless. Refugees starve to death in the streets." Rodrigue looked pained. "If I may speak freely, your Highness...we should change course for Fhirdiad, and take down those traitors before we embark to Enbarr."

"There's no _time_ for that." Dimitri replied fiercely. "We must annihilate Enbarr before all else."

"Think this through," Rodrigue implored. "I understand wanting to destroy the Empire and the Emperor. I want that so much it hurts. But which is more important," he queried, "the dead or the living?"

For one terrifying moment, Dimitri was uncertain of whether he would kill Rodrigue in cold blood. Everything focused down to a white-hot point, the sound of the nearby troops fading to nothing. " _Silence._ " The once-prince finally rasped, his arms crossed over his chest.

"No, Dimitri. You will hear me out." Rodrigue said evenly.

Dimitri hated the older man's calm, just like he had hated Gwendal's. How could _Rodrigue_ of all people do this to him? "Are you asking me...asking the _dead_...to forgive that woman?" The blond man snarled incredulously, jabbing an accusatory finger in Rodrigue's direction. 

"No. I would not ask that of you. What I am asking is that you allow us to prioritize the Kingdom capital over the Imperial capital for now." Rodrigue put a hand over his heart. "As Lambert's close and trusted friend, I am confident that he would have advised the same."

At the mention of his late father, Dimitri saw red. He took a step towards Rodrigue, but halted when he felt Byleth catch his arm. He didn't know why. She was not strong enough to stop him. No one was. "Do not _dare_ to put words in the mouths of the dead." He managed to say, livid though he was. "They are your words alone, even if you borrow their lips. Until I offer up that woman's head, Father will remain a slave to his lingering regret and hatred." Dimitri's voice cracked, the young man all but shouting in Rodrigue's face, "Even now he suffers. It is _ceaseless_. As we waste time with idle chatter, his suffering continues!"

Rodrigue sighed, shaking his head. Silence reigned for a moment, every soldier no doubt eagerly hanging on what the lord might have to say next. Dimitri was certain this was more excitement than the rabble had experienced in years. "You are my king." The older man murmured, bowing. "Our king. Wherever you lead, we will follow. But your Highness...there _are_ those who take up their sword in the name of revenge, and yet along the way lose the strength and composure to follow through." Rodrigue's eyes had gone steely. Dimitri felt as though his very soul was laid bare to the older man. "You would do well to bear that in mind."

Dimitri gritted his teeth, looking away. His eye roved the ashen landscape, illuminated only by the pitchy, writhing flows of lava. Such a tumultuous place…

Byleth's grip on his arm loosened slightly, making the young man glance down at her. She was looking out as well, scanning the edges of the valley. Always one step ahead. 

Rodrigue whistled to his horse, drawing Dimitri's attention. "I nearly forgot." The Lord Fraldarius began apologetically, tugging at a securely-wrapped object tied to his saddle. "Take this, your Highness. The time has come for it to be wielded by it's true master."

The dark-haired man handed the long parcel to the prince, who carefully unwound the cloth to reveal an achingly familiar weapon. "Areadbhar...the Hero's Relic once wielded by my father." Memories of his dignified, strong father rushed to the forefront of Dimitri's mind, flooding him with a wave of heartbroken nostalgia. 

"The very same. I managed to steal it back from one of Cornelia's underlings in Fhirdiad."

Felix rolled his eyes. "Understated as ever, Father. It must have been a true struggle to get it back."

Dimitri clutched the haft of the legendary lance, forcing himself not to break down and weep. Had he _truly_ thought mere moments earlier to cut Rodrigue down without a qualm? "I...I am grateful, my friend." He breathed. 

Rodrigue simply nodded absently and Dimitri knew it wasn't his face that the older man was seeing.

…

_"We must save them. I beg of you, your Highness." Dedue never asked for_ **_anything_ ** _. The prince often found himself scolding the other man for his selfless behavior, so his request was immensely troubling._

_Dimitri immediately went to Seteth and did his best to secure their involvement in this particular maneuver. If he could help it, he would prevent another Tragedy from occurring._

_Now, to ask the professor. He was certain she would not refuse this task._

_When she had first come to the academy, Dimitri had feared her lack of emotion was a display of irritation towards his class. But as time went on, he came to realize that her emotions had simply been subdued. Whether due to her mercenary work or other circumstances, their professor appeared to keep herself on a very short leash._

_When Dimitri returned to tell Dedue the good news, Byleth was already with the other young man. Dedue had been haltingly explaining his current state to their professor, reiterating that he was from Duscur and that his sparse brothers in nationality were rebelling. "They seek to reclaim their homeland."_

_"A request for aid was sent by Viscount Kleiman to the Kingdom capital and the church." Dimitri started to lay out the scenario so that Professor Byleth would have a clear picture, gesturing overmuch with his hands. "He is the one who rules over that region at present. For now, the lords surrounding the Duscur region have sent their armies to help suppress the uprising. However…" The prince trailed off, grimacing._

_"What is it? Why do you both look so fearful? Do they not have enough men?" Byleth asked worriedly._

_Dimitri shook his head and he heard Dedue sigh unhappily. "They have sufficient troops, and strong ones at that. Our worry is that there will be more unwarranted death." Dimitri replied. "There have always been many in the Kingdom's army who believe the people of Duscur our foes, and hate them because of it."_

_"Your Highness-" Dedue protested._

_"You would think they'd refrain from squashing the rebels out of political expediency, but we doubt that will be the case." Dimitri carried on over Dedue, unwilling to indulge in the other man's self-deprecation at this juncture. "If the Kingdom's army and the rebel forces of Duscur collide…"_

_"You fear another massacre." Professor Byleth caught on. Dedue nodded, looking doleful. "What can I do to help?"_

_"I am glad you asked, Professor. I have just now received the permission that I requested from the church." Dimitri had_ **_known_ ** _that she would not refuse!_

_She raised an eyebrow. "Permission for what?"_

_"I asked the church to deploy our class to help handle the situation."_

_Dedue started, his shock obvious. "So we may go?!" He asked sharply._

_Dimitri held up a hand, quelling his friend momentarily. "Not so fast. We still have a responsibility as students of the academy after all. The only one who can truly make the decision as to whether or not we go is our profess-"_

_"We're going." Byleth interrupted him. "Help me gather the class. We leave as soon as possible."_

_Dedue bowed deeply. "You have my most sincere gratitude."_

_"And mine as well." Dimitr assured their professor. He had heard the hitch in Dedue's voice and his heart ached. This was the most outward concern Dedue had displayed in his presence and the prince found it incredibly troubling. "Do not worry, my friend." He stated after Professor Byleth had departed. "We_ **_will_ ** _make it in time."_

_"I pray that you are right, your Highness."_

...

"Your Highness!" A tower shield was abruptly thrust forward to protect his blind side, arrows _pang_ ing off of the sturdy metal. "Apologies for my late arrival."

Dedue was not dead. _Dedue was not dead_ . Dedue, sporting new scars, green eyes even more brilliant than Dimitri remembered, _alive_. 

The once-prince stared at his former vassal, the man who he was _certain_ had perished five years ago. He wondered momentarily if his hallucinations had grown more fitful. 

There was no time for them to _really_ talk during the battle to control the Bridge. Of course not. But afterwards, with the sturdy man from Duscur standing before him, Dimitri found himself at a loss. 

Dedue had never been one for words, the heavily-armored knight simply dropping to one knee in front of Dimitri. "Do not kneel! Explain what happened! I thought you--I was certain you had-" The once-prince floundered to ask his many questions and managed to ruin his sentence, grabbing Dedue's hand and hauling the other man up. " _Dedue_ ." He finally said helplessly, grasping the back of the other man's gorget with shaking fingers. "Why-- _How_ are you here? You died, five years ago!"

Dedue crushed his forehead to Dimitri's, his smile small but still present. "I was saved by my brothers. Men of Duscur. The ones spared during our class' intervention of their uprising."

"Those people you were with...they were of Duscur? And they _saved_ you?" Dimitri repeated incredulously.

Dedue nodded. "Your Highness, I asked that you fulfill your long-held desire, did I not?" His gaze strayed to Dimitri's eye patch. "It would seem some things have changed. Still, allow me to once again act as your shield." He placed a fist over his heart, his terminology blunt and refreshingly sincere. "Please, let me witness your triumph. I want to behold the moment your wish is finally granted."

"Dedue…" Dimitri was at a loss for words once more, mutely clasping the Duscur man's armored forearm. 

He had thought he would never see Dedue again in the realm of the living, but here he stood, nervously shifting his weight as if he thought Dimitri would scold him or... _dismiss_ him even! 

It would seem that some of their other classmates had realized just who the mysterious armored man was. Dimitri could see Ashe breaking into a sprint from across the bridge, Annette in tow.

"Of course," the prince finally continued, aware that his time alone with Dedue was coming to a close. "And in exchange, I ask that you swear something to me, here and now." He glared ferociously at the green-eyed man, "Do not _ever_ throw your life away again. Understood?"

Dedue looked taken aback for a moment, and then his expression softened. "Understood, your Highness." He bowed deeply after Dimitri released his arm. 

" _Dedue!_ " Ashe shouted, obviously thrilled to the core. Annette had already started to cry, her arms unable to reach fully around the large man's torso when she hugged him tight.

Dedue chuckled, patting her head and accepting Ashe's enthusiastic embrace that gripped his shoulders. "I am glad to see you all." His eyes roved to Byleth, who looked delighted to see him but was clearly trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "Thank you for taking care of his Highness in my absence, Professor."

"It was my honor, Dedue. We are overjoyed at your return." Byleth replied graciously, bowing. 

Dimitri moved away from the teary reunion, surveying the battlefield in silent contemplation. 

The once-prince deigned to speak only when he noticed Byleth at his side once more. "Idiots. Embracing death for the sake of that _woman_." He snarled about the Imperial soldiers, his fists clenched tight at his sides. Uncertainty took root in his chest, making his next words sound less than convincing. "Truly foolish." Were his troops any better? His allies? They all followed him like lambs to the slaughter. He had been upfront about using them, pragmatic even. But was that pragmatism something to be praised or loathed?

"What troubles you?" Byleth asked softly.

Dimitri took a moment to answer, trying to determine indeed, _what_ was troubling him. "I...I don't know."

"Do you regret killing them?"

Dimitri bristled at the suggestion, crossing his arms over his chest as he scoffed, "they were just _beasts_ with human faces." He turned his head to look at her, irritated that she would question his resolve. But her eyes bore no judgement, only sorrow. "I had no choice but to kill them, and so I did." Dimitri paused, his resentment fading the more he looked at those sorrowful eyes. " _That_...that is all there is to it." He finished, less firmly than he would have liked.

…

_"Were you reconciled with the reality of battle from your first foray?" Dimitri asked. He wasn't really certain_ **_why_ ** _he would ask such a thing. They had just finished sparring, he had been thanking her for her assistance in teaching some of the monastery foundlings basic swordplay and then_ **_this_ ** _. If anything the professor probably wished for a hot bath and a meal, not to be subject to his princely mewlings. "With...the killing part, I mean." He did not make eye contact, instead focusing on sanding down any splinters that had been forced to the surface of his practice sword._

_"No. It's never easy." Byleth's voice was firm._

_"I see."_

_"And you?" Professor Byleth asked, sitting beside him and reaching for a fresh sheet of smoothing paper._

_"No. I do not carry that burden well." Dimitri replied quietly. "I doubt that will change, no matter how many years come and go." He inhaled a bracing breath, squaring his shoulders. "The first time I led on the battlefield, I was sent to quell a rebellion in the west. It was not a difficult fight. The enemy was not well-trained and their morale was low."_

_The grim memories called to mind the blind terror he had felt as a frontline commander. He had been fifteen, on the cusp of sixteen or thereabouts. He had no idea what he was doing, all he knew was that he didn't want to die that day._

_And so he fought mercilessly, mindlessly, killing anything that moved. Dimitri could barely remember Felix screaming at him to stop,_ **_stop_ ** _-_

_"A swing of the lance, and your opponent falls. A flash of your blade, and a path opens up. That's the kind of battle it was. Easy, right?" Dimitri murmured._

_The professor's hand landed on his shoulder. "It is_ **_never_ ** _easy." She reiterated. "Why were you in a commanding position to begin with? Not to throw your leadership skills into question, of course, but surely there must have been someone more senior than you."_

_Dimitri shook his head. He had asked himself that same question many times. His memory was so hazy in the years following the Tragedy of Duscur that he honestly had no idea how he ended up at the head of a battalion. "I am uncertain, professor. It was at the height of the post-war period, I can recall that much. And I can recall portions of the actual campaign. But my mind...seems to shy away from important details. It is exasperating."_

_"War trauma is difficult to manage, even for seasoned soldiers."_

_"I_ **_do_ ** _recall coming across a dead soldier's body. He was clutching a locket. Inside was a lock of golden hair." Dimitri felt as though he was in a trance. That image was so clear compared to the piecemeal nature of the rest of the battle. "I don't know to whom it belonged. His wife, his daughter…his mother, a lover? I'll never know." Dimitri put his aching head in his hands. "He was a soldier, an enemy. Someone I had cut down without hesitation. But in that moment, I realized he was also a real person, just like the rest of us."_

_"A hard truth to discover on the battlefield, but one that needed to be known all the same." Byleth said pragmatically. She squeezed his shoulder, urging him to carry on._

_"We cannot stand idly by and allow anyone to commit senseless acts of violence." Dimitri reasoned, his words muffled by his hands. "Yet, in dispensing what we call justice, we take the lives of cherished family members and beloved friends." He paused, wondering whether he should even continue and speak about what_ **_truly_ ** _bothered him. Byleth's hand remained on his shoulder and the prince drew resolve from her support. "Killing is part of the job but even so, there are times when I'm chilled to the bone by the depravity of my own actions."_

_Byleth was silent for a time and Dimitri kept rubbing his temples, trying with all his might to keep the headache at bay. "I have felt the same way." She finally said softly._

_Dimitri's relief threatened to overpower his sense of propriety, the prince looking back up at his dear professor. "That you feel the same way is...more comforting than you could know." He took her hand in his own, feeling the warmth of it. "Professor, may I speak freely?"_

_She nodded, seeming a little confused at how serious he was._

_"When we first met, I thought of you as someone who felt no strong feelings about killing your enemies." Dimitri confessed. "I could never trust someone who kills without batting an eye. My heart won't allow it. But after speaking with you and getting to know you better, I can see you're not like that." He said fiercely, clasping her hand to his breast. "Now I know, with all my heart, that I can trust you. Thank you for that."_

_Byleth nodded again and a small smile brightened her face. Dimitri's breath caught in his throat, his blood racing at her nearness, at the way she was smiling-_

_He reprimanded himself sharply for his foolish, indulgent thoughts and released her hand._

...

The blood raced in his veins. She was so close, so near. Within arms reach, even. Dimitri wanted to scream with laughter, finally, _finally!_

They marched on over the Bridge of Myrddin once more and Dimitri could feel his strength surging. Soon he would have her head to present to his family. Soon, his stepmother, his father, Glenn, they could all rest in peace. _Soon-!_

His incensed ramblings to himself grew even worse. Anyone that dared approach him would be treated to a man possessed, talking to people who had long since passed on from this world. Lack of sleep was making him hallucinate Glenn or his father alongside him, their presence disturbing and comforting in equal measure. Dimitri made promise after promise to these silent apparitions, assuring them that he would emerge victorious.

It certainly caused a significant drop in troop morale, not that such a thing would concern Dimitri. All he cared about was tearing Edelgard's head from her shoulders and removing his oh-so-ambitious stepsister from this plane of existence. Then, he would scour Enbarr from the map, erase it as surely as she and her ilk had erased Duscur. 

Their meeting on the battlefield would be one to remember. 

…

_"Is this some kind of twisted_ **_joke?!_ ** _" Dimitri asked incredulously, breathless from his mad laughter seconds before. Staring back at him from the bulk of the Flame Emperor's helm was Edelgard's pale face. He had feared this was the true identity of the fiend since he had found the dagger he gave her, but he had tried so_ **_hard_ ** _to convince himself otherwise..._

_She did not answer him and Dimitri leveled his lance, crushing the porcelain face plate beneath his boot with his first stride forward._

_Professor Byleth caught his arm as he stalked by her and he paused momentarily. "Don't be rash, please." The professor said softly._

_"Rash? Me? I am_ **_finally_ ** _about to avenge the dead and you accuse me of being rash?!" Dimitri snarled, jerking away from her and continuing forward. "I've been looking for you...I'll take your head from your shoulders_ **_and hang it from the gates of Enbarr!_ ** _" He screamed._

_He charged at Edelgard and her soldiers rushed to defend her. So great was Dimitri's wrath that he found it ridiculously simple to strike down the men attacking him, skewering two in one thrust and then slinging his lance at Edelgard with all his might._

_It buried harmlessly in the wall behind her after grazing her shoulder. Dimitri snapped his teeth in hysterical irritation, nearly frothing at the mouth. The soldiers continued their assault and so he continued his own, slamming one man's face into the stone stairs and then crushing the last soldier's armored skull with one gauntleted hand._

_He looked up, locked eyes with Edelgard and_ **_smiled_ ** _. Edelgard flinched. Dimitri advanced up the stairs until they were together on the dais, the prince shaking with fury. "Before I break your neck," He hissed at the young woman across from him, "there is one thing I must ask you."_

_"Stay out of my way!" Edelgard ordered._

_Dimitri shook his head. "I don't recall giving you permission to speak. Answer my question. That is all you have left to do." He took another step forward. "Flame Emperor...no,_ **_Edelgard_ ** _. Tell me now,_ **_why_ ** _did you cause such a tragedy?"_

_Edelgard flinched again, lavender eyes boring into his own._

_"You killed your own mother, and yet you haven't even had the decency to stop and consider the_ **_reasons_ ** _behind your actions, have you?!" Dimitri raged, his fists clenched at his sides._

_"I already told you, I had_ **_nothing_ ** _to do with that!" Edelgard protested._

_"It was foolish to think I could reason with a lowly_ **_beast_ ** _." Dimitri snapped. He heard motion to his left and abruptly two more soldiers were shielding Edelgard. The prince bared his teeth in a fierce grimace and lunged forward just as Hubert appeared in a flash of purple light, the dark-haired man quickly snatching up Edelgard._

_The Flame Emperor and her retainer vanished._

_Archbishop Rhea's righteous tirade faded to background noise in the wake of Dimitri realizing his folly._

_She had escaped. Edelgard had_ **_escaped_ ** _. He had played right into her hands, demanded answers first instead of striking her down where she stood and thus allowed Hubert precious extra seconds to rescue her. What a_ **_fool_ ** _he was! His hesitation had cost him his closure, his_ **_revenge!_ ** _Dimitri wanted to scream._

…

But not again, never again. He would not allow her to escape so easily.

" _Kill every last one of them!_ " Dimitri ordered, brandishing Areadbhar and then rushing forward with his troops. Byleth stayed close enough that he was vaguely aware of her presence at all times; flashes of pale green in the corner of his eye. 

Time and again his lance swung, time and again paths opened up. 

The battlefield was chaos, a nightmarish cacophony of war cries and armor racket. At some point a fire was started, bringing with it echoes of screams from Duscur. Dimitri's blood pounded in his ears, his headache reaching a new level of splitting agony at the reek of ash and burning flesh. _Edelgard, Edelgard…_

The tormented souls of his family clung to him, bony fingers clawing at his throat. Dimitri forced himself onward, storming across Gronder with single-minded intent. He needed her head. They _demanded_ her head. 

One of the great war beasts lumbered after him and cut off his possible retreat, not that Dimitri planned on turning back. It _also_ separated him from his allies and troops, a fact that should have concerned him. If he had been in his right mind, it probably would have. As such, he barely noticed, his lone eye focused solely on the golden gleam of Edelgard's empirical headpiece. 

She was surrounded by her own troops. It mattered not. Whether one or one hundred men, it mattered not. Dimitri rushed her guards, impaling three with one jab of his family's Relic. A brittle calm took him, the prince shucking the corpses off the blade and then widening his stance to face her head-on. She waved her guards back, looking resigned. 

"Stab your chest, snap your _neck_ , smash your head...I will allow you to choose your own death." Dimitri seethed, spittle flying through his clenched teeth.

"I'm not interested in methods of dying. All that matters is _when_ death takes place, not how." Edelgard replied pragmatically, her axe raised in a defensive position. "And I have no intention of dying today."

"I'm sure all of the people you've slaughtered so far thought the same!" His calm shattered like glass, the blond man lunged forward. 

Edelgard lashed out mercilessly as she was forced back, her attacks too random for him to predict. Dimitri endured them, landing thunderous blow after thunderous blow. Madman strength and the voices of the dead in his ears urged him on, their pleas for vengeance spurring him to fight without regard for his own life. 

The step-siblings stabbed and hacked at one another, their weapons singing through the air with the aggression behind their motions. Edelgard couldn't dodge _every_ attack and she had never been overly sturdy in close quarters sparring despite her armor; it was only a matter of time before Dimitri would kill her. 

Nausea again, the sick sensation of _kinslayer_ bubbling in his throat. Had he really become such a thing? But then, what did that make Edelgard? They were both monsters at this point, he reasoned, monsters destined to die at each other's hands to bring about their ideal future. 

Dimitri roared and with one final thrust, Areadbhar pierced Edelgard's side. The Emperor gasped, pausing. Blood began to trickle down the shaft of the lance. 

The once-prince grinned savagely. "It's _over_ , stepsister." 

"Just as expected," Edelgard choked, "You're not making my path an easy one." She wrapped her shaking fingers around his lance and took a step back, removing the weapon from her body with no small amount of difficulty. "I must retreat for now. But we'll meet again on the battlefield."

Like clockwork, her advisor Hubert appeared and swept her into his arms. Dimitri's lance slashed through nothing but empty air, his motions just a fraction too slow to catch the pair before they vanished. 

The prince whirled around and screamed his frustration to the heavens, launching Areadbhar at the nearest soldier and pinning them to the ground. " _You think you can escape, Edelgard?!_ " He heard a rush of footsteps behind him, but he couldn't even bring himself to give a damn. 

She got away. _Again_. 

Dimitri dug his gauntlets into his hair and _pulled_ , the once-prince so hysterical with despair that he couldn't react properly. Would he _never_ be able to satisfy the dead? Would he _never_ be free of this crushing responsibility, this duty that threatened to leech the life from his body? 

" _I'll kill you, Edelgard! Do you hear me, you witch?! I'll-!_ "

His crazed rant was cut short by a blade sliding cleverly between the plates of his armor to bury itself in his side. The once-prince, already badly bloodied from wounds he had not felt, finally lost his balance. He dropped to one knee, barely managing to keep himself from collapsing entirely as the adrenaline that had facilitated his motion utterly deserted him. Dimitri looked up into the wild eyes of his attacker and was momentarily confused. 

It was the foundling who had begged to join their ranks when they had taken the Bridge. _To get revenge on the man who killed my brother_ , she had claimed. It all became hideously clear to the blond man. _He_ had killed her brother.

"Have I caught you off guard, your Highness?" The nameless girl jeered, "does it hurt? It's _nothing_ compared to what my brother felt!" Tears started streaming down her face. "You will never be forgiven, you know. I will _never_ forgive you!" She screamed. This young woman stood proudly over his crumpled form and raised her sword once again. "You filthy _monster!_ "

...

The war beasts had taken up a majority of their attention. When the last of them was finally slain, Byleth spotted Dimitri standing alone in the distance. Rodrigue laughed, seeming relieved. "Looks like he's alright. For the moment, at least." He commented, wiping his blade clean on the grass.

Byleth nodded, her brow furrowing when she noticed a figure all in white on the edge of the field near the prince. The figure darted forward suddenly, there was a flash in their hands, _a sword-_

Byleth's eyes widened in panic when Dimitri dropped and she screamed, "Manuela!" The former songstress already had the spell prepared, warping the professor precious feet closer to the woman attacking Dimitri. Rodrigue ran in the opposite direction, whistling for his horse. 

_We won't make it in time_ , Byleth realized. In despair she cried out wordlessly, a hand outstretched to implore the Goddess even as she urged her exhausted body forward. _Spare him, spare him!_

**_You are so predictable. So willing to give your life for your little ones._ **

_At a moment's notice. He means everything to me, whole or fragmented. If we lose him...if_ **_I_ ** _lose him..._

**_Well then. Let's hope you survive this, shall we?_ **

Time slowed to a halt, if only for a few precious seconds. Enough for Byleth to get in the way of the young woman's ferocious swing. She could not even raise her own blade to deflect in time, and thus made the decision to take the full force of the blow to her shoulder. Goddess willing, she would prevail.

The pain was horrendous. The sword was not nearly as sharp as it could have been and as such, tore messily into her shoulder before it lodged in her light armor and robes. Byleth sobbed out a breath of relief despite the agony, the Nosferatu spell crackling to life in her palm. She quickly dropped her sword and instead grabbed the other woman's hilt, preventing her from pulling away with it.

…

He had been ready to die, utterly demoralized by Edelgard's flight from their duel. One final stroke of the sword from this unnamed woman (practically a child), and it would be over. Her eyes burned fever-bright with the desire for revenge, just like his own. 

Her brother must have been so dear to her.

Dimitri bowed his head and simply waited for the killing blow. For once, the dead were silent. Soon enough, he would be with them.

" _Professor!_ " 

The sound of Rodrigue's voice snapped him out of his calm acceptance, the prince flinching and opening his eye again. To his utter bewilderment, Byleth now stood in front of him. Seconds prior she had been clear across the battlefield, how on earth…? 

She took the blow meant for him to her shoulder and Dimitri gritted his teeth to stifle a cry of dismay at how deep the blade sank. With one hand firmly grappling the crosstrees to keep the young woman from striking again, Byleth snarled, " _I will not permit you to take him from me_. He is my king, and I will defend him with my life. If you intend to kill him, I refuse to make it a simple task for you!"

Her free hand slammed palm-first into the other woman's stomach, the explosion of power from the sapping spell staggering her. Rodrigue seized the opening and struck mercilessly from astride his warhorse, cutting the young would-be assassin down where she stood. 

Dimitri couldn't seem to stir. It was as though he was frozen in one of his many nightmares, unable to react to the horrors he saw. 

The young girl's vengeful words rang deafeningly loud in his ears, _you will never be forgiven, you know. I will_ **_never_ ** _forgive you!_

Byleth was _somehow_ still standing despite the blade in her shoulder, her hands limp at her sides. "Your Highness." She swallowed hard and turned, offering him a wavering smile. It was _pitiful_ , nothing but a shadow of her regular one. Dimitri _loathed_ it. "I'm so glad I..."

Her legs gave out and she fell to the ground, lifeless. 

Dimitri found himself able to move again and he lurched forward, gathering her into his arms. His own wounds and weariness faded from his mind as he shouted for Manuela, Flayn, Mercedes, _anyone please Byleth don't die!_ Rodrigue tried to calm his panic to no avail; Dimitri was inconsolable. "I _will not_ lose her! Not again!" He screamed at the man who had been like a second father to him, terror making his voice ragged. "Don't die! _Please_ don't die!" She was so limp, so incredibly pale. "I won't let you, Byleth, _please_ …" 

His words choked off in his throat and Dimitri pressed his forehead to her own, silently willing her to open her eyes, to say _something!_ Even if she called him a monster, a beast, it would be better than this horrid quiet! 

_You will never be forgiven_.

_You filthy_ **_monster!_ **

Tears rose unbidden and for the first time in five years, he let them fall. "Father, Stepmother, Glenn...they all died for me and left me behind. Are you to join the ghosts who shadow my every move?" Rodrigue placed a hand on his shoulder and Dimitri couldn't find it in himself to shrug it off. "This is _my_ fault, Byleth. I...I'm the one who killed you, as surely as though I had wielded the blade." A sob rattled his body and Dimitri bowed his head in grief. 

"You've got one thing wrong, your Highness." Rodrigue said quietly after a beat. " _None_ of them died for you. Not even Glenn. Rather, they died for what they believed in." The older man gripped his shoulder a little tighter, his words cutting through the fog of Dimitri's grief to strike his very core. "Your life is your own, Dimitri. It belongs to no other, living or dead. You must live for what _you_ believe in, my king."

Byleth's chest expanded suddenly with a hungry gasp for air, her fingers clawing weakly at the thick mane of Dimitri's cloak. "'Mitri." She slurred out, barely conscious.

"Be _silent_." Dimitri ordered hoarsely. Goddess, ever since the events at Duscur he had not been truly sick, but now he feared he would vomit with relief. She was still alive. He hadn't killed her. She would live. 

_Live for what you believe in_.

Mercedes knelt beside them, her skirt stained with the grass and mud of the battlefield. "Save your strength, my dear professor." She soothed, deftly peeling the layers of cloth and armor away from the wound. "I'll have you fixed up in no time. Flayn, please see to his Highness."

" _Damn_ me! Flayn, save _her_!" Dimitri demanded, knocking away the well-meaning hands of the small woman. 

"Let Flayn..." Byleth whispered.

"I will accept _nothing_ until I know you are safe!" 

Lord Rodrigue grabbed a handful of hair at the nape of Dimitri's neck and _yanked_ his head back, unceremoniously dumping the vulnerary Mercedes passed him into the young man's mouth. Dimitri coughed and sputtered, barely managing to swallow without choking on the viscous liquid. " _There_. That ought to keep you stable until Mercedes can work her magic on your professor." Rodrigue said, giving Dimitri a love tap on the side of his head before releasing him once more. 

"Rodrigue, I will-" Dimitri tried to stand and failed miserably, getting a little snort of laughter out of Flayn.

"You will do nothing but be _still_ , your Highness." She scolded, her hands alight with healing magic.

"I beg of you, waste no power on me until we are certain that she will be alright." Dimitri pleaded. "I... _we_ cannot survive without her."

Flayn huffed in annoyance and Mercedes laughed softly, though whether at the other healer's attitude with the prince or at Dimitri's own slip of the tongue was anyone's guess. "She will be fine, your Highness. Provided she gets the rest she needs." The soft-spoken young woman assured him. "She is quite weary. The sword went deep."

"M' alright…" Byleth sounded like she was battling sleep. "Can still...can still...fight..."

"You can rest, Professor. You can sit and _rest_." Mercedes chided. "We must keep her warm during our return to the monastery. Your Highness, forgive my boldness, but-"

"Take the damn thing." Dimitri cut her off, already fighting with the clasps on his cloak.

"No no, you are injured as well! I just need you to stay close to her. That way, the two of you can share." Mercedes was as pragmatic as ever. "Your cape is very large, after all."

The prince marveled that his nearly-dead body still felt the need to _flush_ at her request. "Very well." 

"Thank you so much!" Mercedes beamed.

Dedue hovered by Dimitri's side while they waited for the wagon that would carry them back to the monastery. "What am I to do about this?" Dimitri asked, half to himself. 

"Your Highness?"

"Had that sword gone just a fraction lower, if that girl had stabbed instead of swung..." Dimitri trailed off, shaking his head. "What a damn _fool_ you are, Professor. Not even _our_ healers could have saved you if you bled out before they arrived."

"Are you so certain it is the professor who is a fool?" Dedue asked, the query more pointed than it had a right to be. "Your wounds from Edelgard were quite grievous. As though you fought without thinking of defense. _Or_ survival."

Dimitri wanted to rage at the Duscur man for assuming such ludicrous things, honestly he did. But the words Dedue spoke were damnably accurate. "It should not matter whether I live or die." The prince muttered sullenly.

"It matters a great deal, your Highness. If I may be so bold, it matters more than you seem to comprehend." Dedue gestured at the destroyed landscape of Gronder Field. "Soldiers and allies fought and died for your beliefs today. Your orders alone mobilize troops and rally legions. You cannot be so careless with your life."

"I will not sit here and be _chastised_ on mortality by the man who was so eager to throw his own life away for me!" Dimitri spat the words cruelly, wishing in the next breath that he could take them back. His fingers twisted through his hair in a frantic, nervous gesture. 

Dedue, to his credit, did not so much as flinch at the outburst. "I am a vassal in service to you, your Highness. One of a knight's many responsibilities is to lay down their life for their ruler. You needed to escape and live on. I am simply a tool to be utilized by your Highness."

"Your pragmatism grieves me."

"Your grief is acceptable. Normal, even. You have always been too kind-hearted for your own good." 

Dimitri couldn't think of a response to _that_ . Kind-hearted? _Him?_ Dedue clearly had no idea of the monster he had become. He stayed silent, musing on his own thoughts. It felt almost as if he had been sleepwalking since the professor's disappearance, but seeing her take that blade for him without hesitation was…

Dimitri put his head into his hands. " _Am_ I a fool, Dedue?"

"Pardon?"

"I've lashed out at everyone trying to help me. I've danced with madness and run myself ragged pursuing Edelgard. I have killed... _Goddess_ , how I've killed." He looked up at Dedue. "Am I a fool?"

The other man looked uncomfortable. "I am unworthy to judge you as such, your Highness."

"That's as good as saying yes." Dimitri groaned. 

When the cart arrived, Dimitri, the professor, and a multitude of other wounded were crammed into it. The ride back to the monastery was subdued. For the first time, Dimitri felt as though everyone was looking at him with reproach instead of fear. And really, how could he blame them? Dedue was right. On his orders alone, soldiers went to war, fought, and died. The orders of a depraved monster had ended so many lives today, all in the name of his mad obsession to separate Edelgard's head from her body. 

_Your life is your own, Dimitri. It belongs to no other, living or dead._

Rodrigue's words turned over and over in his mind. Dimitri certainly _felt_ like a fool, Dedue's unwillingness to label him as one notwithstanding. 

The professor was tucked against his side, shivering even in her sleep. Dimitri was not used to her being cold. It seemed wrong, somehow. Despite his own weariness, he struggled to gather her into his lap and then wrapped her securely in the folds of his cloak. 

Sleep began to tug at him and Dimitri surrendered, too exhausted to put up a fight. He did not wake even when he was removed from the cart at the monastery.

…

_Byleth kicked her legs back and forth, laughing. On her feet were a set of high-heeled sandals, much taller than the boots she normally wore. "How do you even walk in these?"_

_"Years of training, my dear." Manuela tittered. The both of them hadn't seemed to notice the young prince yet._

_The professor was laying on her back on one of the infirmary beds, her legs up in the air in a strange pose. It was surprisingly juvenile behavior for her. Her strong, shapely thighs were on full display due to the short breeches and patterned hosiery she wore; it was clear that mercenary work had been kind to her._

_Dimitri cleared his throat, certain that his face was a damning shade of pink. "Professor?"_

_Byleth glanced over at him, continuing to smile. "Your Highness! What brings you here?"_

_"I, er, I had a question about this month's assignment." Dimitri stammered. "I can come back at another time, of course-"_

_"No no, your Highness. Your professor was just curious about my footwear. I promise we're not busy." Manuela assured him._

_Byleth got to her feet and wobbled towards the prince, the intense concentration on her face exceedingly amusing. That is, until she tripped on the edge of the rug and nearly fell flat._

_Dimitri swooped in on instinct, seizing her hand and pulling her into his body to steady her footing. "I do not know if those shoes agree with you, Professor." The sandals gave her enough height to nearly be at eye level with him and she took full advantage of that fact. Dimitri wasn't sure whether he should feel uncomfortable, simply staring back at her._

_Her form was pressed tight to his own, even closer than when he had been roped into showing her how to waltz. There had at least been a level of propriety during that lesson, but here…_

_"I suppose not." Byleth sighed. After a moment, she bent down and started untying the sandals. "Would do me no good to break an ankle_ **_off_ ** _the battlefield, after all."_

_"They're just for_ **_fun_ ** _, dear Professor Byleth." Manuela insisted. "You're allowed to enjoy yourself, after all."_

_Without those ridiculous shoes on, Byleth barely reached Dimitri's shoulder. She had to tilt her chin up to look him in the eyes as usual. The prince's heart thudding in his chest was becoming regular,_ **_normal_ ** _, and he found himself smiling for no reason._

…

" _Listen_ to me, your Highness. Even if you don't wish to hear me, all I ask is that you listen." Rodrigue implored. Dimitri did not turn towards the older man, but he did incline his head. "Thank you, your Highness. Now, I will speak plainly, as I always have with you. Dimitri, you were _entirely_ too reckless at Gronder." Rodrigue scolded. "We could have lost you a multitude of times. It was only through sheer dumb luck that we didn't. With all due respect, this obsession you have with Edelgard will absolutely get you killed."

"I cannot stop until I have her head." Dimitri said wearily. He felt as though all he had been doing since Gronder was repeat himself. "Father, Stepmother and Glenn...none of them can rest peacefully until I present them with the corpse of the one who ended their lives." 

"I understand your desires, believe me. I miss my son with every fiber of my being. But throwing yourself into harm's way will not bring them back." Rodrigue took a deep breath, like he was steeling himself. "Killing Edelgard will _not_ bring Glenn back, Dimitri. Nor will it bring your father or stepmother back. In the end, all you're doing is making more corpses and the fact of the matter is that...well, the dead are the dead. They don't ' _languish in regret and sorrow_ ', or whatever pretty things we like to say to justify our own actions. They are...dead."

Unlike at Ailell, Dimitri felt no heated desire to instantly strike Rodrigue down for his words. "The dead-"

"You must find something to _live_ for, Dimitri. Otherwise, this war is doomed to fail." Rodrigue pressed on, urging, "Leave the dead to their peaceful slumber, far from our troubles."

Uncertainty wrapped its icy fingers around Dimitri's heart. "What...what could I possibly…" He stumbled over his words, thoroughly distraught. 

Glenn's own flesh and blood _father_ , demanding that Dimitri take into account the cost that his wild behavior would have on the army and _think_. It was jarring to say the least, especially considering that in his impetuous youth Rodrigue had always been the one to encourage healthily rash actions. 

"I thought...I _believed_ I was doing the right thing." The blond man said finally. "Ever since Duscur I have been haunted by the dead, Rodrigue." The truth must have been plain on his face, for Rodrigue looked saddened. "The screams of torment and that _smell_ , burning flesh, I cannot shake it. I have not tasted anything I've eaten for nearly ten years. My sleep is poor and my headaches...incessant." Dimitri wavered momentarily, clenching his fists. "They demand her life, Rodrigue." 

"The dead are dead, Dimitri. They cannot _demand_ anything." The dark-haired man reasoned. "I understand that this crusade is what kept you alive up until this point, but you _must_ make a choice. Either you can keep piling corpses up for corpses, or…" Rodrigue trailed off, his gaze far away. 

…

Byleth finally managed to hobble her way to the stables undetected. She felt thoroughly henpecked, everyone's concern heartwarming and exceedingly irritating at this point. She was only sneaking off for a little while, just to have some peace.

The ladder to the hayloft was easily managed even with one arm still weakened, and the former professor snuggled down into the slightly-scratchy bedding with a quiet sigh of contentment. 

Unfortunately, her relaxation was short-lived. Just as she was being lulled to sleep by the patter of rain on the roof and the soft nickering of the horses, she heard the stable door slide open stealthily. 

Byleth was instantly alert, rolling onto her stomach and peering over the side of the loft. It was Dimitri of all people, someone who _should_ be resting himself! It had stung her pride slightly when he hadn't visited her at all during her recovery, but she had reasoned he was probably having a difficult time recovering on his own end.

"Here for the pleasant equine company, your Highness?" Dimitri whirled to face her, guilt plain on his features. He had been saddling his horse. Byleth's heart sank. "Ah." She said listlessly, moving to sit on the hayloft ladder. 

"What do you want?" His voice sounded strained, as though he had been crying.

"Where are you going?"

"It doesn't concern you." Dimitri answered curtly.

"It does." Byleth shot back, attempting to climb down the ladder. Dimitri caught her around the waist and set her on the ground, nothing but a slight wince betraying his wounds from the battle at Gronder. 

He appeared confused when she slipped past him, then the confusion changed to irritation as she blocked him from cinching the flank billet on his horse's saddle.

"Get out of my way. _Now_." The young man demanded, reaching out to move her.

"You're going to Enbarr, aren't you?" Byleth challenged. Dimitri flinched back and she knew she had hit the nail on the head. Anger flooded her. Even after _everything_ that had happened, he was determined to throw his life away. "Do you really think _that_ will appease the dead?" The words were sharper than she had intended and the prince bristled.

"Silence! You have no idea what you're talking about." He said through gritted teeth. "Death is the end. No matter how much lingering regret a person has, after death, they are powerless. They cannot even _wish_ for revenge, much less seek it out." 

Dimitri folded his arms over his chest, as if to make a wall between the two of them. Byleth loathed when he shut himself off like this. It had felt like they were making such progress and then he had to go and do something _reckless_ . Like try to sneak off to Enbarr. _Alone_.

"Hatred, regret...those burdens fall on the shoulders of those who are left behind." His voice rose in volume, "I _must_ continue down this path! I already told you as much! It is _far_ too late to stop."

"You're _wrong!_ " Byleth yelled.

The show of strong emotion startled the both of them into brief silence but Dimitri quickly recovered, turning to leave. "Do not waste your breath with some _nonsense_ about how I should move on with my life for their sake!" He spat. 

Byleth huffed, storming after him out into the rain. "Don't run away from me, Dimitri!" She said fiercely. The tall man stopped in his tracks when she used his first name and she seized her opportunity. "The living _need_ you! Why can't you see that?" **_I_ ** _need you, damn it_.

"Those who died with lingering regret...they will not loose their hold on me so easily." Dimitri tilted his face up towards the sky, rainfall beginning to flatten his matted, tangled hair. 

Byleth simply stood there, waiting for him to explain himself. After a moment, she noticed his face was much wetter than even the light rain could have managed in such a short time. He was _weeping_. 

Dimitri finally muttered, "But you seem to have all the answers. So tell me, professor. _Please_ , tell me…" His voice cracked. "How do I silence their desperate pleas? How do I...how do I _save_ them?" He begged pitifully, refusing to look at her. "Ever since that day almost a decade ago, I have lived _only_ to avenge the fallen. Even my time at the academy under your tutelage, it was all to clear away the regret of the dead. It was the only thing that kept me _alive_. My only reason to keep moving forward." Dimitri confessed.

He sounded exhausted and broken, weary beyond measure. Byleth's heart ached for him. "Dimitri...rather, your Highness." She said softly, "do you remember what you told me when my father was killed? You told me to figure out what it is that I'm living for. You said that one day my tears would dry, that I would forgive myself as well as him for leaving me. You need to forgive yourself. Take your own advice."

Dimitri looked as though he was about to retort, but then his expression changed. He simply exhaled harshly, snapping his attention down to the mud that was pooling around his boots. Byleth took a cautious step closer, only just managing to hear his murmured inquiry of, "but then who--or _what_ , should I live for?" 

The former professor mulled the question over, wracking her brain for something that wouldn't sound like a useless platitude. "Live for what you believe in." She said finally.

"Have you spoken with Rodrigue?" Dimitri asked sharply.

"Um, not today?" Byleth was a bit thrown off by his abrupt change in tone. 

"Never mind it then." Dimitri stared back up at the sky. "A strange coincidence, no doubt." 

"Your Highness-"

" _Byleth_ ." He stressed her name when he interrupted, but he still refused to look at her. "I am a murderous _monster_ , my hands stained red with blood. Could one such as I truly hope for such a life?" Dimitri hesitated, the strength of his voice fading again when he asked uncertainly, "as the sole survivor of that day, do I...do I have the _right_ to live for myself?" 

They were both soaked through from standing out in the rain for so long and Byleth was certain that they made a pitiful sight. She squared her shoulders, then took a deep breath to steel herself. She wasn't sure what else she could do if he pushed her away one more time. 

Instead of grabbing him, holding him, _shaking the life out of him for being so dense_ , she simply extended a hand. Dimitri stared down at it and for one gut-wrenching moment she feared he would still leave.

But then the prince yanked clumsily at the buckles of his gauntlet, divesting himself of both armor and glove in one fell swoop before he cautiously accepted her hand. His hand was trembling, damp and _freezing_ to the touch. She laced her fingers with his own, then brought her other hand up to cover them.

Dimitri looked shattered, lost. "Your hands are so warm...have they always been?" He asked dazedly. 

"I think you could use some tea and some rest. Maybe someone to talk to?" Byleth suggested quietly. 

"I...do not wish to be alone." Dimitri admitted.

"Would you like me to get Dedue or Rodrigue?"

"No, I...no. Please. Let me stay with you." 

Dimitri refused to release her hand during their entire trek back to her room. He only parted from her to allow her to begin toweling off his soaking wet hair. 

"I feel...I feel as though I've just woken up from a deep sleep." He confided from his spot beside the tiny brazier where the water for their tea heated. Byleth did her best not to think about how close his face was to her own. "I don't know what I am to do."

Dimitri was clearly distraught and scared, the prince wringing his hands over and over in a nervous gesture. His armor and cloak continued to drip on the threadbare rug. Byleth handed him the towel and urged him into the washroom. "Take the armor off and get dry. You'll never warm up if you don't." She instructed gently. "I'll finish making the tea."

"Armor off?" Dimitri looked at her like she was insane, clutching the towel to his chest.

"I'll protect you. We're safe here."

After a few more assurances and some coaxing, the prince finally agreed to strip down to his padded undertunic. Now, his hair tied back, sitting on the edge of her bed with a steaming cup of tea held in still slightly-unsteady hands, he seemed like a different person.

The only sound in the room for a time was the quiet hiss of water landing on the brazier, as Byleth had hung the prince's heavy cloak over the heat source in a valiant effort to dry it. She could feel his attention on her even while she settled quietly into her desk chair beside the bed. "Drink your tea, your Highness." She reminded him, raising her own cup to him in a makeshift toast.

Dimitri twitched. "Ah! Of course, I'm sorry. My mind is...it seems to be in a thousand places." He apologized, dutifully taking a sip. That lone blue eye went wide in what Byleth could only assume was confusion. The prince stared at the cup of tea he had just sampled as though he expected it to bite him. "What...what tea is this?" He asked, his voice shaking.

"Why, what's wrong?" She replied warily. 

"I...nothing. Nothing is wrong at all." Dimitri took another tentative sip. "It's delightful. It's so, so good." He sounded strangely giddy. "It tastes incredible."

"Your Highness, I think you've gone too long without sleep. It's just some run of the mill apple blend." Byleth clapped her hands together decisively. "You need rest, and you will have it."

Once Dimitri had been safely swaddled in the multitude of blankets in her bed and convinced to rest ' _just for a moment or two_ ', Byleth opened one of the many ledgers on her desk and returned to work. Tonight's progress boded well for the prince's recovery. She dared not hope he would fully regain control of himself so soon, but progress was progress all the same.

…

His dreams were still fraught with the demands of the departed. He doubted that would ever change. But every time the darkness threatened to consume him, her hand reached out and saved him. Over and over again until Dimitri ceased to dream, and simply slept.

He awoke to find her slumped at her desk, her cheek resting on an open ledger. Dimitri carefully rose from the bed he had taken over the evening before, doing his best to be quiet. Without the usual weight of his armor, it wasn't nearly as difficult as had feared. 

The ledger was opened to a page meticulously detailing all the movements of their troops in the past week, as well as calculations for rations. It also included notes in the margins about bowstrings that needed to be replaced, tack and bridles were wearing thin...

Shame doused Dimitri's body in a cold rush. She had been doing all the logistical work, the work that was _his_ responsibility, _alone_ , and yet she still managed to keep the troops functional. How long had she shouldered his burden? Since she had returned?

There was a sharp knock on the door, making him jump out of his skin. Byleth stirred and Dimitri lunged for the door latch, intent on shooing off whatever idiot decided to show up on her doorstep--

_Dedue_ of all people stood there on the stoop, looking positively fit to be tied. When he saw Dimitri, however, his stern expression relaxed slightly. "Your Highness! I-"

Dimitri slapped a palm squarely in the middle of Dedue's chest and shoved the other man back a step, hurriedly moving outside and then closing the door behind him. "By the Goddess Dedue, have you no common sense?!" The blond man hissed.

Dedue had the grace to appear perplexed. "I am not certain I follow, your Highness."

"She is _trying_ to sleep, and you could have woken her up!"

"I have been searching for you, your Highness. You never returned to your quarters last night. I checked the cathedral and you were not there. Though your horse was still in the stables, I...I feared the worst. I apologize for assuming that you had struck out on your own." Dedue dropped to one knee. "Forgive me, your Highness. I only worried for your safety."

Dimitri felt like the world's smallest person. Dedue had probably been frantic, and there was _so_ much ground for him to cover when searching the monastery. "Dedue, no, _I_ should be the one apologizing. Will you permit me to explain myself?" 

"What could there be to explain? You are, as you have pointed out numerous times to me, a grown man. Perfectly capable of being on your own." Dedue said stiffly, "It is simply my overprotective tendencies."

"Dedue, _please_ . I must speak with you on this matter candidly." Dimitri seized the other man's arm and guided him to a nearby bench. "I...I feel as if I've _awoken_. Everything is brighter, somehow. More clear." Dimitri was frustrated by his inability to articulate, his hands clenched on his thighs while he struggled to find the right words. 

"You have not removed your armor for anything besides brief cleaning in months. What has happened?" Dedue asked worriedly. Of course, _that_ would be the thing he noticed.

"Last night, I was certain I would be leaving for Enbarr." Dedue's gauntlets creaked and Dimitri held up a hand to stave him off. "I _know_ I am a fool, I am plainly aware. Refrain from scolding me until I am finished, I beg of you." Dimitri was almost entertained by the heavy sigh Dedue heaved. "Rodrigue said many things to me. Much of which I was not prepared to hear. I departed his presence abruptly, conflicted." 

"You truly would have gone to Enbarr alone?"

"Had Byleth not been napping in the hayloft...yes, I believe so." Dimitri admitted. "She used my _name_ , Dedue, and followed me out into the rain so she could knock some sense into me. These last few months I have not displayed very princely behavior to friend or foe. I have frankly been _miserable_ to be around. But she-"

"Your Highness, our professor only has what is best for you in mind. Whatever she said to you, I am certain it was not meant in a cruel manner." Dedue said worriedly. "Did she offend you, your Highness?"

"No no, nothing like that." Dimitri waved off the other man's concern. "I needed what she said. Just as I needed what Rodrigue said." He muttered ruefully, "To be entirely truthful, I was probably in great need of a stern rap on the head."

"I had considered it, but I feared your skull might damage my axe."

Dimitri burst out laughing. He had nearly forgotten what his own laughter sounded like. Dedue smiled after a pause, the large man's relief plain on his face.

"Enjoying yourselves?" Byleth asked from her doorway, yawning widely post-query. She stretched and Dimitri found his eye straying to the section of bare skin at her hip that the motion revealed. His laughter petered out and he abruptly felt embarrassed for some reason. _Surely_ , he wasn't-

"I am glad that his Highness was in your custody last night, as opposed to Imperial binds." Dedue said, standing and offering their former professor a deep bow.

She smiled at Dedue, giving him some modest reply, Dimitri was certain. He didn't actually _hear_ what she said, his attention wholly on that smile…

...

_Dimitri bolted pell-mell all the way back to Jeritza's quarters, terrified that he would not make it in time. He cursed his sense of duty furiously as he ran; damn him for not being able to delegate!_

_Professor Manuela would be alright, Hanneman had assured him of that fact. But if something had happened to the others because he hadn't been there to help, if something_ **_terrible_ ** _had happened just like in Duscur-_

_Seeing all of his classmates whole and hearty at the top of the stairs was nearly enough to make his knees give out. Dimitri was literally dizzy with relief, taking hold of one of the bookshelves to steady himself._

_The professor instructed the other students to transport Flayn and the mystery girl to the infirmary, then turned to him with a worried, "What happened?"_

_"Professor Hanneman says she'll be fine." Dimitri rattled off the information he had been given, "She had been wounded, but he expects that she'll make a full recovery. The monks are swarming the infirmary as we speak." He grimaced when he heard a splintering noise, relaxing his grip on the bookcase slightly. "I apologize for my posture, Professor. I was so overjoyed upon seeing you all safe and sound, I...I felt weak."_

_Professor Byleth shook her head and_ **_smiled_ ** _. "It's alright, your Highness. It was a difficult fight, believe me. You had every reason to be concerned. But we're all accounted for."_

_He had never seen her smile before. Dimitri was flabbergasted. She had a lovely smile. "That expression is...could you make it again, Professor?" She obliged after a moment of confusion, smiling at him. The first time he had witnessed her displaying emotion, and it was_ **_beautiful_ ** _. "I don't think I've ever seen your face like that."_

_"What, smiling?" Professor Byleth pursed her lips, obviously thinking hard. "Hmm, I guess not. I don't know. I feel like it comes easier now for some reason? When I was a mercenary, life was hard. Not many opportunities for smiles."_

_"I suppose that makes sense." Dimitri allowed. "You should do it more often, though! You have a wonderful smile."_

_"Do you think so? How strange. I've never really thought about it." Byleth admitted. "Is that a thing I should concern myself with?"_

_"Only if it pleases you! If not, simply forget I said anything. I would hate it if you felt forced to smile for my sake." Dimitri felt like he had committed some sort of blunder, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "I am just not used to seeing you display emotion. It was a...a novel experience."_

_"Oh?" Professor Byleth tapped her chin in thought and then startled the prince by sticking her tongue out at him. "Perhaps_ **_you_ ** _should pay more attention, your Highness."_

_"Ah, I apologize. I've forgotten myself and come dangerously close to teasing you!" The prince laughed, thoroughly embarrassed with his own actions. "Forgive my impropriety, professor. I was merely caught off guard. I've never seen you look so happy before. It's downright mesmerizing."_

_"I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you. I'll try harder to smile for you. For the class."_

_"Oh! What are we doing?! We must hurry and share the good news with Seteth!" Dimitri exclaimed, flustered that he had allowed himself to get so very sidetracked. "We haven't a moment to lose, make haste!"_

…

He _threw_ Byleth bodily, watching in barely-concealed awe as she arced through the air to land gracefully on her feet. She rushed him and Dimitri easily knocked her blade aside with his lance. But she didn't _stop_ like he anticipated. Instead, she let her sword go and slammed her whole body into his.

Dimitri staggered, only to discover her boot behind his own. Byleth hooked his ankle and they both went down with a mighty _crash!_. Dimitri coughed, the wind knocked out of him by a combination of the impact and his armor.

A wooden blade slid beneath his chin.

"Do you yield?" 

Of course. Byleth fought like a mercenary. She used every resource she had at her disposal, not just her sword. She had never managed to get the upper hand and floor him though, that was new.

"Never." The blond man panted grimly. "You'll have to kill me." 

She leaned in closer as she started to laugh and that was when Dimitri noticed that her breast bindings must have come undone during combat. He froze, his gauntlets digging into the sand beneath him. Her clothes were a mess from their sparring, as was her armor. He could look down the tunic beneath her mail with ease. 

Numerous nights of his youth at the Officer's Academy had been spent engaging in hands-on musings about his dear professor's body. Back then, Dimitri had pragmatically chalked it up to a combination of his overblown strength and pubescent hysteria. 

He currently had no such explanation for _why_ he was so fixated on the press of his former professor's unfettered bosom against his breastplate. 

" _...Highness?_ Your Highness? Are you alright?" She was speaking to him.

_She was speaking to him_. Dimitri jerked his face up, certain he was bright red. Byleth's expression bordered on concerned, the training sword discarded off to the side as she hovered over him. 

"Did you hit your head? I know all my weight landed on you." She continued worriedly.

"Ah, yes. Just a little rattled. Apologies." Dimitri tried to play it off, mustering up a weak chuckle. She sat back on his hips, seeming satisfied with his response. Dimitri's breath hitched in his throat at the subsequent pressure on his codpiece.

"I didn't think I'd knock you over!" Byleth cheered, raising her arms over her head in victory. 

Dimitri closed his eye, his fingers scrabbling pitifully in the sand until they closed upon the haft of his sparring lance. He swung the lance as if he was going to break every rib she had, but at the last moment he ground to a halt. The shaft of the lance tapped her ribs and Dimitri seized a handful of her chainmail, dragging her down. "Checkmate, Professor." He breathed, flipping his lance so the padded blade was poised to punch into the base of her spine. 

Byleth squeaked, wriggling against his body and managing free up one of her arms. "Not so fast!" She exclaimed, her eyes still alight with mirth. "I've got my magic, after all." Her open hand glowed with power directly beside his remaining eye.

"True enough." Dimitri allowed. "You are indeed versatile, Professor." Having her this close was _intolerable_ , yet he kept his black gauntlet tightly fisted in her loose mail shirt.

"I celebrated my victory too early. I'll do better next time." She promised. 

"See that you do. We cannot lose you." Dimitri replied curtly. "On my end, of course, I'll have to be more _wary_ of mercenary footwork."

"Yes, my fancy footwork has been the downfall of many foes!" Byleth said proudly, "You could say it... _brings them to their knees_."

Dimitri couldn't help the bark of exasperated laughter he let out, which set off her own giggles. "Goddess, that's an awful one. You need to stop spending time with Alois." 

"What?! His puns are great, I won't hear anything else on the matter." The professor scolded, still snickering as she got to her feet and dusted off her hosiery. She extended a hand and Dimitri accepted without thought, allowing himself to be hauled upright. "Oh, I'm sorry. We got your armor all sandy."

"It's quite alright. It was due for a cleaning anyways." Dimitri assured her, brushing some of the grime off his cuisses. "Perhaps it is concerning for me to think this way, but I no longer fear an attack from every side. Thus, I can remove and clean my armor relatively peacefully." _Thanks to you_. She smiled up at him and Dimitri caught himself just as he began leaning in. He flinched, breaking eye contact and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Er, be certain to rest your shoulder. We may have undone some of your healing." 

The prince left with a haste that was probably unbecoming of a gentleman, his long legs taking the steps to the second floor dormitory two at a time. He somehow, _somehow_ managed to reach his room without incident or interruption, a rarity in and of itself. Normally he couldn't so much as attempt to move from point A to point B before Gilbert or Dedue descended upon him.

Dimitri locked his door behind him, leaning back against it and covering his face with his hands. His body felt like it was on fire; nerve endings alight with sensations he had long believed were dead.

He _ached_ and it certainly wasn't from exertion. The pit of his stomach tangled in knots when he thought of their sparring, of Byleth sweaty and smiling down at him like he was the best thing she had ever seen. 

_Goddess_ , he was such a sinner. It made him want to put his hands on her. All over her. Repeatedly. _Unclothed_.

Dimitri bit down on his index knuckle, teeth meeting armor with a dull _click_ . It had been over five years since he had even deigned to _think_ of such things. He was trembling, he realized dimly. His hands were clumsy and suddenly unfamiliar with the buckles and pins on his armor, as though it was the first time he had attempted to undo them. 

This frantic sensation in his blood, while half-forgotten, was not new. Rather, it recalled to clarity memories of lying sleepless in this very room, working himself into a proverbial lather. The tension he suffered from in his younger years was unbearable at times, and he had sought any way to relieve it if his grueling training failed to exhaust him. 

Now here he was, a fully-grown man floundering to tear himself out of his armor that he might surrender to his libidinous urges once again. Dimitri couldn't even muster up the will to feel shame at what he was about to do. All he could think about was her healing him, smiling at him, _nearly dying for him_ , her shouting his name and pursuing him when he stormed out...

Dimitri worked the laces on his placket loose and sloppily licked his palm. _Goddess_ , he was a sinner and a fool.

…

_"Wait. Do you hear that?" Byleth asked just before they reached the main hall. Her hand left his own and Dimitri mourned the loss before he could stop himself._

_He paused, his brow furrowed. "Hear what? Everyone in the hall?"_

_"No no, not that. I hear...something else." She turned and ducked into the stairwell, beckoning hurriedly for Dimitri to follow her. "Listen."_

_Dimitri obliged gamely, cocking his head and straining to ignore the dull roar from the ballgoers. After a moment, he_ **_did_ ** _hear something. "Is that...singing?" He whispered. Byleth nodded, already halfway to the second floor._

_Dimitri followed behind, feeling...odd. The song was haunting in its melody, familiar and yet not. He knew that his mother had died of the plague too soon after he was born for him to have any true memory of her, but the lonely sound echoing in the stairwell made him wonder if there was something_ **_important_ ** _he was forgetting. Something precious, lost to time itself. Maybe he wasn't even the one who had forgotten it, but he still longed to recall what it was._

_When they reached the last landing before the third floor, Byleth motioned for him to stay put while she went on ahead. Dimitri watched her go, highly entertained by the way she slunk up the stairs on all fours as though she were a cat._

_She moved out of sight and the prince waited anxiously, all the while hearing that song lilt through the air._

_When Professor Byleth returned mere moments later, she sat on the bottom step at the landing and patted it, as if encouraging Dimitri to take a seat. "I'd like to listen a little while longer. Care to join me?"_

_The prince hiked up his parade breeches and sat one step above her own, gesturing to his lengthy legs when she raised an eyebrow. "Who is singing, Professor?" He queried._

_"It's Lady Rhea." Byleth murmured. She looked strangely dreamy, shifting over to lean against his leg. "She's on the Star Terrace."_

_Dimitri hummed in acknowledgment, not minding in the slightest that he was being reduced to a piece of furniture. Best that he steal every carefree moment he could._

_He could not distinguish any words in the song if they existed. Rhea's voice was exquisite; It was as if she sung to the Goddess herself. Dimitri started nodding off despite his best efforts, body and mind soothed by the gentle melody._

_The notion struck him that this was as close to truly pious as he had ever felt in all his years. Dimitri was not a man of prayerful reflection. Despite all of Ferdinand's enthusiasm about nobility leading the masses in worship of the Goddess, she always seemed so far away when Dimitri bowed his head._

_But_ **_here_ ** _of all places, sprawled out on well-worn carpeted steps with his dear professor slouched against his shin, Rhea's song drifting ethereally through the air...Dimitri caught himself fancying that the Goddess was close enough to reach out and touch._

_Byleth finally yawned widely, rubbing her eyes. "Suddenly I am exhausted. We really must retire." She mumbled._

_"I agree. You have had quite a night of it." Dimitri got to his feet and stretched languidly, then offered her his hand. "May I walk you to your quarters, Professor?"_

...

Edelgard lay crumpled before them, the purple miasma of foul magics dissipating from her form. Dimitri hesitated, Areadbhar hanging loosely from his hand. "El." He rasped, voice destroyed from their pitched battle. 

She looked up, her eyes meeting his own. There was no fear in those eyes even as the prince slowly advanced, only calm indifference. 

He held out his hand. "El, _please_. It's not too late." He implored, "I would see that strong future you wish for, joined with my own to make all of Fódlan a better place." Edelgard smiled tiredly up at him, one of her hands sliding behind her back while the other stretched to reach him.

Dimitri was too close to avoid the dagger she threw. He could barely find the strength to lift Areadbhar as it was, gracelessly shoving the point of his lance into her gut as her dagger penetrated his chest. There was a moment where the two of them simply stared at each other.

Then, the Emperor slumped forward. It would seem that the dagger Dimitri had gifted her so long ago had failed to cut her a path in the end. The King grunted in pain as he took hold of the hilt, jerking the blade free and letting it fall where it may.

The knife hit the ground with a hollow _clang!_ , the sound reverberating sharply in the stillness. Dimitri heard motion behind him and he struggled to free Areadbhar before he was attacked again. 

A familiar head of pastel green hair was ducking beneath his arm before he could finish the motion. The young man sagged into her, releasing his family Relic. "My King." Byleth said softly, reverently, a hand pressed to his breastplate to steady him. 

Dimitri groaned, inhaling deeply and staring upwards in a vain attempt to fend off his tears. Edelgard was dead. After years upon years of torment, after piling up corpses and falling prey to his darkest desires, he had still emerged victorious. 

He placed a shower of kisses upon the crown of Byleth's head, half-delirious with a combination of sorrow and joy. "We've done it. Byleth, we've done it." He breathed. Tears began to dampen her hair. "By the grace of the Goddess, we have _done_ it."

Byleth just held him silently, letting him sob. Everyone he had lost, all the souls that haunted him; Dimitri finally released the burden of responsibility and grieved for them properly. He mourned his stepmother, Glenn, his father, every life lost in the tragedy of Duscur. Even Edelgard found her way into his sorrow. 

He mourned them, and then he let them go. 

Dimitri crouched stiffly beside Edelgard's body and reached out, closing her eyes. "Be at peace, El." He whispered, his face damp with tears.

Byleth's hand rested on his shoulder. She was clearly exhausted, the normal rush of warmth from her healing barely a flicker. Still, it was sufficient to patch the wound left from Edelgard's final attack. "Would you like to pray for her?" 

Dimitri bowed his head. "I have not prayed in many years, Professor." He rasped. "Not since before the Tragedy. I...I have always been far from the Goddess, _especially_ for a noble of such high breeding."

"I'll guide you." He could hear the smile in her voice. "I'm no old hand, but I sat through enough of Seteth's lectures to know the gist. We can do it together."

Dimitri covered her hand on his shoulder, nodding mutely. 

_Together_.

…

Between his official coronation, Byleth's acceptance of the archbishop position, and the preparations to begin rebuilding the new Fódlan, Dimitri went months without seeing his dear professor or classmates. Many letters were exchanged, formal and informal alike finding their way to his desk.

Dimitri was particularly amused to find out that Seteth had proposed to Ingrid mid-battle, the wyvern knight _apparently_ shouting a declaration of eternal love and faithfulness while lance-deep in a foe. 

Flayn had seen the whole thing, her recounting a little more _embellished_ than Seteth's dry report. If Dimitri was to believe her claims, lily petals had cascaded from the Goddess herself to swirl around the two lovers on the battlefield. The wild tale made him smile, even while he felt a pang of jealousy. That Seteth and Ingrid could find time for love even in the chaos of war…

Byleth was slated to attend a planning forum held at the castle later that month. The former Alliance leaders had all agreed to meet in the Fhirdiad palace and go over the terms of the amicable Alliance annexation. Dimitri was looking forward to it, even though he loathed gatherings like this. Too much nattering on, trying to soothe ruffled feathers while outside his kingdom was barely held together with a wish and a prayer. He understood the _importance_ , of course. His training had never been lax in any area. He knew _exactly_ why he needed to do this. 

If he was being honest with himself, he had called for this meeting with selfish reasons in mind. As the head of the Church of Seiros, Byleth was duty-bound be present at certain events to ensure stability and fairness. Dimitri knew that there was no other way to inconspicuously tear her from her current mountain of responsibilities as archbishop. He felt guilty, but at the same time he knew he couldn't say what he needed to say if he was confined to a letter, if only because it could be intercepted or stolen far too easily. Dimitri needed to _see_ her. He needed to have those warm, calloused hands in his own when he _finally_ …

Well, he was getting ahead of things again.

The ring sat in its tiny little box inside his boudoir for months. Dimitri had happened across it while going through all the things Cornelia had pilfered from his father's belongings. The prince-turned-king had no real eye for baubles _or_ quality, but he felt as though he was familiar with the piece and had called upon Rodrigue to verify the legitimacy of his faded memory. Instead of being a visit solely dedicated to horseback rides, appraisal and drinking tea, Lord Fraldarius had surprised him by getting misty-eyed. 

"I wish your father could see this. See _you_ , Dimitri." Rodrigue had held the ring delicately between two white-gloved fingers, letting it catch the light just so. "For all the darkness of your past, your future is remarkably bright." He had smiled fondly up at Dimitri, his eyes clouded with memories. "It was your birth mother's, given to her by your father. An heirloom of the royal family. I'm certain your professor will love it."

…

The tables were _ridiculously_ long when they were all lined up in a row as one massive buffet in the ballroom. Tradition dictated the placement, demanding that the king be at the high end of the table and removed from his guests. Dimitri stroked his chin, then sighed and moved one of the servants aside. "We are not doing this." He said firmly, hoisting the last table overhead and heading towards the dais.

"Your Majesty _please!_ " The servant floundered after him, helpless to halt the king's forward motion. 

Dimitri moved the tables up and closer together, ending with something a bit more square versus the long rectangle they had been. "We will need different tablecloths…" he mused, staring at the polished wood. An idea struck him and he quickly turned to the servant who had been hovering nearby. "Go to the seamstress who is on the corner by the apothecary. Tell her we need-" The king paused, using his arms to measure the table length. "-three yards times...er, twelve tables." Due to his lone eye, his depth perception had taken a bit of a nosedive. Counting stationary objects was always an interesting process. "All different colors, hemmed. I have no preference for material. I understand that we are recovering. Reward her handsomely for the expediency of her work." 

Once the servant had departed, Dimitri set to loosely arranging the chairs with the assistance of two other maids. He knew it was unbecoming for the king to be performing such mundane tasks, but he also did not care one jot about the opinions of others.

Preparations were in full swing. Dedue was slated to arrive tomorrow with the freshly-titled Archbishop Byleth, as were the former leaders of the Alliance. Numerous of his old classmates were amongst the ranks; the new Dukes of Gloucester and Aegir in particular were bound to be wildly entertaining. Dimitri made a mental note to seat them beside each other.

He had sent Dedue to escort Byleth for a reason. Though their primary enemy was gone, Fódlan was far from sorted. Dimitri knew that the man from Duscur would fight tooth and nail to secure their former professor's safety, should the need arise. Whether brigands, bandits or fiendish mages, he put all his faith in his loyal vassal. It was all he _could_ do, really. It pained Dimitri immensely that he couldn't go to fetch her himself, but there was no justification for such casual endangerment of the last surviving member of House Blaiddyd. 

He feared he might slide into depression again if he wasn't allowed to wander for much longer. Though his self-imposed isolation had been grim and agonizing to survive, he found himself longing for the freedom he had felt while he haunted the highways. Now it was always, " _your Majesty we must go with you_ ," or " _you cannot cavort about the countryside unsupervised_." A truly terrible fate. 

Rodrigue had only been able to visit him that one time in the span since they had defeated Edelgard, but the dark-haired man had taken the new king out for a lengthy, grueling horseback ride. The Lord Fraldarius always seemed to understand Dimitri, with or without words. 

…

"We had to fix the sections of wall destroyed during the riots, but with the help of House Riegan's masons it was done in no time." Dedue continued pointing out the repairs that had been made, Byleth following along gleefully. It had been weeks since she was able to leave the monastery for this long. She almost felt guilty about leaving all the paperwork behind.

Almost.

When she had asked to enter the city on foot sans her entourage, Dedue complied without question. The two of them meandered in relative anonymity, Dedue giving her a tour of sorts as they went. 

A manservant wearing the King's livery caught Byleth's attention and she watched curiously as he struggled to carry an armful of what _appeared_ to be different types of cloth. "Dedue, that man…" Byleth trailed off, leaving Dedue's side and rushing forward to catch the cloth that slipped from the servant's grasp.

"Oh! Thank you miss, I was certain I would sully them." The man said, throwing her a grateful grin over the top of the bolts still in his arms. 

"It was no trouble, can I help carry some of these for you? I'm on my way to the palace myself as it is."

"Ah, you must be one of the new scullery maids!" The man exclaimed, seeming relieved that she wanted to help. Byleth barely kept from laughing aloud, thanking the Goddess that her traveling attire was far less ornate than anyone would expect from an archbishop. "I know his Majesty put out a call for more positions, what with the big meet involving the Alliance folks and all." 

"I imagine it's been quite the storm of preparations." Byleth allowed, carefully transferring half the cloth bolts to her own arms.

"Your imagination serves you well. And his Majesty, bless him, is not a hands-off man. He's ordered for new tablecloths, the tables are to be arranged differently...it's strange, and I know people will talk, but I am glad he's taking steps to improve relations with the high and mighty." The servant lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Why, I've even heard that the new Archbishop herself will be in attendance to oversee the rulings! Can you believe it?" 

"We live in exciting times." Byleth agreed.

Dedue appeared out of the marketplace crowds beside her, looking a little annoyed. "Your Grace, _please_ do not wander off." He chastised. "His Majesty would not forgive me if something were to happen to you, especially on his own doorstep."

"I understand. I apologize, I assumed you saw me when I ran ahead."

The servant beside her started at Dedue's voice, struggling to bow even with his arms full. "Knight-Captain Dedue! You've returned!" Dedue simply nodded as the rest of what he had said seemed to catch up with the other man. "Wait, did you just call her _your Grace_ ? But I thought that..." He trailed off, going pale. "Oh Goddess, are _you-?!_ "

Byleth put a finger to her lips and gave the man a wink.

…

Dimitri couldn't stop _pacing_ . Back and forth, back and forth, he worried he would wear a track in the ballroom marble. Byleth's entourage had arrived _hours_ ago with the news that the Archbishop and Dedue had gone for a bit of a jaunt around Fhirdiad. 

Which was entirely acceptable, of course. Absolutely. No doubt she wished to see how the people fared, how the rebuilding was coming. 

Dimitri sighed heavily. At this rate, the servant would be back with the new tablecloths by the time she-

The door at the opposite end of the ballroom was pushed open and Dedue strode in, moving to hold the door for the two people following him. One of them was the manservant who had been sent to get the tablecloths he had commissioned the day before, and the other…

Dimitri realized abruptly that he was _not_ prepared for this. 

When folk spoke of absence making the heart grow fonder, he had thought they were simply waxing poetic. But seeing her again made him want to do something _ridiculous_.

Like sprinting clear across the ballroom in a highly undignified manner ( _Dedue hurried to take the bolts of cloth she was holding_ ), watching her face light up in excitement as he went. 

Like picking her up and spinning her around, a deep laugh finding its way out of him at the sound of her own peals of mirth. 

Like hugging her tightly after the fact, hearing her murmur in his ear that she had missed him. 

Dimitri rested his forehead against hers and held her for longer than was appropriate, _especially_ if all he was doing was greeting a dear friend. But she made no move to leave his embrace, a fact that stirred hope within him. 

Dedue finally cleared his throat with an awkward grunt. "Your Majesty?"

"Thank you for getting her here safely, Dedue." Dimitri said sincerely.

"Of course, your Majesty."

"We brought your tablecloths!" Byleth added brightly. "Where would you like them?" She was wearing the Blue Lion brooch again, the one that Dimitri and his classmates had gifted to her all those years ago. The sight filled him with a strange pride.

"Ah! Yes, of course. We have the tables already prepared, we're making it a bit more personable this time." Dimitri explained, gladly accepting the fabric. "I'd like the blue for my own table, naturally!"

…

The meetings began midmorning the following day and lasted into the noon of the day after. Much was said. Grievances were aired among the lords, hatchets buried and a multitude of trade agreements mingled with fealty declarations exchanged hands and signatures. It all went relatively smoothly, thanks to Byleth's level-headed presence and Dimitri's own willingness to compromise for the sake of a better future. 

It certainly helped that before Claude had departed on his grand quest, he had entrusted Failnaught to the church. No doubt that was _why_ he had done it in the first place. Claude was not a man to cast resources away on a whim, and Failnaught was the sacred Hero's Relic of his house. A powerful display if nothing else, and a symbol of his faith in the new Archbishop. He must have known the other lords would fall in line, with or _without_ him there to browbeat them.

The Archbishop sighed heavily once the last carriage had departed down the long drive and out the gates. "I'd say job well done. My father would say that a drink is in order."

Dimitri chuckled. "It is not even three o'clock, your Grace." 

She waved him off, "psh, don't call me that. No one is here now."

"But you insist on calling me Majesty, do you not?"

"That's a _little_ different-" Byleth began to protest, laughing when he caught her hand and kissed her knuckles. "I mean, you're the King!"

"Truly? What other wonders have I missed out on?" Dimitri teased. "Next you'll say that I've solidified fractured lands and the people have dubbed me a savior king."

"Not _alone!_ " Byleth protested, still laughing. "I saw you almost go after Ferdinand. Let the poor boy talk about tea in peace."

"Between he and Lorenz chattering about new leaves in their trade contracts, I was lucky to get a word in edgewise!" Dimitri groaned. "I don't understand how they keep it all straight. If I have tea that isn't that apple blend, it tastes like nothing but hot water and grass clippings. I suppose my palate isn't nearly as refined as theirs." He shrugged, his smile a little more rueful now.

Byleth studied his features in the waning light of afternoon, concluding that his hair being pulled back from his face suited him quite well. He looked away when she complimented him, but he seemed very pleased. 

"Do you really think so? Felix told me I either needed to take it all off, or tie it back. He feared for my ability to see. He did not _say_ that, of course. You know Felix." Dimitri tugged at a shaggy section of blond hair that dangled over his eyepatch. "I'm afraid I am not the best barber. Sharp things close to my face alarm me more than they should." He said with an embarrassed shrug.

Byleth nodded in understanding, taking his hand once more and twining their fingers together. Deep down, she knew this was improper behavior, but when it came to Dimitri her propriety seemed to retreat.

Dimitri inhaled sharply, and then his other hand covered her own. "Your Grace," he began, but quickly corrected himself, "I'm sorry, _Byleth_. I have...there is something I...er. I would like to ask you something, if I may." He stammered. 

"Of course, your Majesty." Byleth replied quietly. 

"I...have you ever considered...that is to say, _would_ you ever consider a...um, a-an alliance between the church and the Kingdom of Faerghus?" Dimitri asked all in a rush, his hands trembling around her own.

Byleth's brow furrowed, the young woman puzzled by his strange behavior. "You already know that you have the full backing of the Church of Seiros, Dimitri."

Dimitri looked positively frazzled when she used his name instead of his honorifics. "No, not...like that." He muttered awkwardly. "I-I meant...well, I meant…" The blond closed his eye, swearing under his breath as he released Byleth's hand and started groping in the side pocket of his mantle. "I had everything planned, but isn't that how it always is. Blast, where did I _put_ the damn thing?!" He shook his cape aggressively and a small, unassuming box bounced off his sabaton, hitting the floor with a quiet _thunk_. 

The king hastily scooped up the box, brushed it off, and then took her hand once more. Byleth's heart leaped into her throat. 

"I would love to claim that I am doing this for Faerghus or Fódlan and not myself. I would love to be able to say that I only think of my country and what could better it, but that is not the case." Dimitri's tone was incredibly serious. "I am a wretched man, selfish and stubborn and so, _so_ very greedy. And yet to me, you have always been the one who guided me so kindly. My ally through all. My beloved…" he paused thoughtfully, a wistful smile making its way to his face. "Yes. My beloved."

Having settled on a term, Dimitri pressed the box into her hands. Byleth fumbled with the lid for several tense seconds as he stood there silently. When she finally managed to get it open, Byleth's eyes widened. Nestled in blue velvet that was faded with age, shining in the light of the afternoon sun, was an absolutely _stunning_ ring. 

She was rendered speechless, just staring down at the open box.

"Please, I beg of you, _say_ something." Dimitri implored hoarsely. "If you do not wish to accept it, please just tell me. If so, I will face the truth and walk away." He sounded defeated even as he said it, like he assumed she was about to turn him down.

"No no! That's not it at all, I swear!" Byleth exclaimed frantically, her fingers burrowing into her waistcoat pocket. She pulled out the ring that her father had given her mother and motioned for Dimitri's hand, carefully placing the far less opulent item in his gloved palm. 

Dimitri went stock-still. Byleth could feel her cheeks flushing even as she smiled at him.

...

"What is this?"

He felt like a fool even as he asked, of course he knew _what_ it was. It was a well-worn, delicate band of silver. A ring. She was giving him a ring.

_She was giving him a ring_.

His eye flew up to meet her own, and he saw how brightly she was smiling at him. "I love you, Dimitri. Will you marry me?" She asked softly. "And I'm _not_ asking simply to display a unified front from the church and the kingdom, I promise. I am asking because you are the person that I love."

"I am the...you _love_ me?" Dimitri did not mean to sound _quite_ so incredulous. He was having a difficult time mastering himself; all he wanted to do was shout his joy from the palace rooftops! She loved him. _She loved him_ . She asked him to _marry_ her! "I...yes, yes of course! I accept! Gladly!" He continued, certain he was grinning like a fool. "Let us exchange them, shall we?" 

"Absolutely! Here, give me mine back for a moment, and then you take yours out of the box-"

After several seconds of laughter and floundering, the Archbishop and the King managed to properly wear each other's rings. Byleth's ring looked almost ridiculously fragile on Dimitri's hand, the small flower set with pink and purple gems appearing as though it was made of gossamer. 

Dimitri cared not, holding her hands once again. They were warm, calloused, just as he remembered them from the very first time she had offered him her hand all those years ago. "These strong hands that have saved me countless times…" Dimitri mused, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. "Thank you, my beloved. For rescuing me, pulling me back from the brink with your kind, warm hands. May they cling to my own forevermore." He said fervently.

Her blush went to the roots of her hair. It was _immensely_ becoming on her. "Always." She promised. Her face fell suddenly. "Oh."

"What is it, my love?" Dimitri asked worriedly.

"I...Dimitri, I must return to Garreg Mach _tomorrow_." She answered, sounding entirely despondent. Dimitri himself felt a rush of sorrow at her words, knowing them to be true and loathing that they were.

"I know that I cannot keep you from your duties any longer, but…" he trailed off, raking a hand through his hair. "My heart aches at the thought of being apart from you for even a moment, Byleth."

"As does mine." She replied sadly. An odd look crossed her face and she sucked in a quick breath. "Dimitri, would you want to...erm, spend the night together?"

The King's mouth went dry. 

"I-I mean, I understand that you're the ruler of Fódlan and I'm the Archbishop and nothing about our situation is very... _normal_ . But many a couple, er, _anticipates_ their wedding night." Byleth rushed to add. Dimitri noted absently that her neck was as red as her face. "I would know you intimately, if I may be so bold."

"I do not wish to tarnish you." Dimitri admitted softly. And there it was, laid bare. His largest fear that their engagement might throw her own virtue or morals into question, due to his previous, utterly reprehensible conduct. "If we do something like that before we are publicly wed…"

"We will have to at some point and people will create rumors regardless of what we do." Byleth pointed out practically. "I am not some clean linen for you to ruin, Dimitri. I am just as battle-worn as yourself."

"True. In many ways, you are much more of a warrior than I ever could be." Dimitri hesitated, then bowed and murmured, "Will you join me in my chambers this evening, your Grace?"

…

He needed to speak with Sylvain. _Immediately_. 

Dimitri found his old classmate in the barracks, the redhead enthusiastically trading bawdy stories with his troops as usual. 

"Captain Gautier! A moment?" Dimitri called, waving off the hasty bows of the men that saw him. 

"Your Majesty! Just in time, I was about to-"

Dimitri grabbed Sylvain's arm and started hauling him out of the room. " _Now_ , Sylvain." 

"Alright, _alright!_ You'll dent my armor if you keep that up!" Sylvain teased as he staggered along. "So _aggressive_. What's this all about, your Kingliness?"

Dimitri wordlessly held up his free hand as he ushered Sylvain down the hall. 

The moment it dawned on Sylvain was obvious. He yanked Dimitri's hand closer, examining the ring the king wore. "I _knew it_. Ha! Felix, prepare to pay up!" The redhead announced gleefully. 

"What?! You two knew about this? Who else knows?" Dimitri demanded, thoroughly embarrassed.

Sylvain waved him off airily. "No one _knew_ , Dimitri. We all just kinda' assumed. I bet that the pro...er, _Archbishop_ would ask first."

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news-"

"Whatever, it doesn't matter, congratulations are in order!" Sylvain interrupted, enthusiastically shaking Dimitri's hand. "You're a wanted man now, your Majesty!"

"Hey wait, who bet on _me_ then?!"

"Uh, I think just Felix, honestly." Sylvain admitted. "Something about you being 'absolutely pitiful'?"

"How _comforting_." Dimitri growled. "Listen Sylvain, I don't have a lot of time. Evening is drawing near." He clenched his fist over his heart in a rigid salute. "Please teach me everything you know about pleasing a woman."

"I...oh Goddess, okay. I was not expecting that. I uh. I need a second." Sylvain squeaked, "You want me to do _what?_ "

"I _need_ you to-"

"Wait, no, nevermind. I _did_ hear you right. You... _really?_ Already? _Oh_ , she's leaving tomorrow. Yeah no, I get it now." Sylvain cracked his knuckles methodically, his handsome grin bordering on evil. "We are going to go raid the kitchen for some nice, juicy peaches to consume and then _I_ am going to tutor you in the time-honored tradition of eating someone out."

"What in _blazes_ does eating a peach have to do with...with what I need to know by this evening?" Dimitri questioned the other man, concerned now.

"Oh don't worry. You'll find out. All I ask in return is that you tell Mercedes something nice about me. And _maybe_ name one of your royal brats after me. After all, I'm instrumental in their creation-!"

Sylvain barely dodged Dimitri's gauntlet in time.

…

"I don't know what I'm doing." Byleth whispered.

"That, makes two of us." Dimitri pressed their foreheads together, his attention wholly focused on her lips and the way she was biting them. "May I?"

"May you…?" 

"May I kiss you?" Dimitri wasn't sure why he was whispering as well. It wasn't as if they had an audience. "I know that is how one normally starts such endeavors, if Sylvain is to be believed."

Byleth looked _shy_ of all things, nodding jerkily and then closing her eyes. Dimitri exhaled, feeling a bit lightheaded.

His mouth met hers for the first time and the King found his hands fumbling to grip her shoulders. Her own hands sought purchase on his armored torso and came back wanting, settling for fisting in the luxurious fur ruff of his mantle. They clung to each other almost frantically, Byleth returning his kiss with more and more excitement. Her mouth was hot on his own, their inexperience doing nothing to dampen the intensity of the moment. 

"I need to get this damn plate off. Help me?" Dimitri muttered against her lips, chuckling when she rapidly started to fidget with the pins at his sides. "So eager!"

"I want to see you." Byleth replied bluntly, making Dimitri's face flush. "Get it over with. If we're both naked, what else could we be nervous about?" She reasoned.

Dimitri felt like all the air left his chest at the idea of seeing her wholly naked. "An excellent point." He managed to say, undoing his mantle and draping it over one of the less than comfortable armchairs. Gloves came next, then the process of trying to maneuver his pauldrons accordingly. 

Byleth, it seemed, had no patience for proper armor removal. She slid the pins in his sides and nearly took Dimitri's nose off before remembering that the gorget needed to be undone prior to the breastplate's own bonds. Dimitri couldn't help his laughter, cupping her face with his newly-bared hands and kissing her once more. "Be still, my beloved. I am not going anywhere."

They managed to remove the rest of his armor down to his cuisses without incident, and Dimitri settled onto the edge of his bed to wriggle out of his greaves and sabatons. 

" _Blast_ this armor." He growled to himself as a particularly stubborn latch refused to budge. 

Byleth's hand landed in the middle of his chest and she gave him a push, leaving the King on his back. Dimitri blinked up at the ceiling, stunned when she climbed on top of him and pinned his wrists to the bed.

"Your Majesty." Oh, he _liked_ the sound of that. "May I?"

"May you what?"

"May I kiss you?"

" _Goddess_ , you need never ask again." 

Dimitri could have easily dominated the situation, inexperienced though he was. But he found himself staying there, his wrists flexing in her grip. She wasn't going to hurt him. This was no Fhirdiad jail cell, no sharp shackles and miles upon miles of chain to try and manage his rages. 

His arms began to tremble from how tightly he was reining himself in. "Byleth," he murmured between their kisses. "Please-"

"Please?" 

"Beloved, _please_." Dimitri sat up, shifting her into his lap. He buried his face in her neck, pressing kisses to the skin he found as his fingers fought with the buttons of her waistcoat. "Please." 

She responded by starting to undo the tiny fasteners that ran the length of his padded undertunic. Dimitri had to take his hands off of her to shuck the offending garment, pausing when Byleth slid her index over the scar from Edelgard's dagger. "Does it pain you?" She asked, her eyes betraying her concern.

"No. All that is left is some numbness in my hand." Dimitri assured her. "I was very fortunate that her aim was off. Had she hit my heart, I doubt I would be enjoying this time with you." Byleth touched her lips to the scar and Dimitri couldn't help his shiver. 

The rest of their armor and clothing was slowly peeled away, revealing the two to each other in their full glory. Dimitri cursed his pale complexion, the King unable to hide how flustered he was simply due to the flush on his face and chest. 

Byleth had never looked more like a divine being than in that moment, Dimitri decided. "You are perfect." The blond man sighed, "I almost fear to touch you. If this is nothing but a dream…"

Byleth's hand rested on his stomach. "Do you not wish to touch me?"

" _Goddess_ , I have longed to touch you like this for so long." Dimitri said sheepishly. "Longer than I should admit." His hand laced with her own, brushing their joined thumbs over one of her breasts. "As you can see, I've done _quite_ a bit of thinking on the subject." He breathed.

Her fingers traipsed experimentally over the head of his cock and Dimitri exhaled sharply. "What does it feel like?" She asked curiously. 

"It's...I am not certain on how to describe it." Dimitri wasn't expecting to be the teacher this evening. "A strange, primal heat. It tingles and aches." 

She straddled his hips, her entire focus on his engorged arousal. Dimitri had never been the subject of such study and he found it incredibly difficult to hold still while she ran her fingers over his body. "This is supposed to fit inside me?" 

Dimitri couldn't hold back his groan. " _Yes_. Eventually. Hopefully."

Byleth raised herself up on her knees, a hand questing between her legs. Dimitri wanted to scream, settling for shakily following her fingers. She was _hot_ , the slick he had heard of from Sylvain's lascivious recountings coating her most delicate area. She undulated over him, whimpering when Dimitri stroked her gently. 

"Those sounds, _never_ stop making them." He demanded, falling in love all over again at the blissful expression on her face. "Sylvain taught me a few things today. I believe I will not disappoint."

She giggled, "I don't know whether to be concerned or-" 

Dimitri didn't give her the time to finish voicing her misgivings, the King rolling them over and pressing her back to the mattress. "It is wonderful to have you beneath me without a battle raging around us." He murmured, his mouth making a path down her stomach and hips. His fingers trailed across her collarbone, then stopped at the rough patch of scar tissue on her shoulder. "This wound…" He paused, raising his head. 

She put her hand over his own, the pressure light but steady. "I would do it again in a heartbeat." Byleth assured him.

" _Please_ , do not." Dimitri implored desperately. "I cannot lose you again." Her knees framed his head as he sank lower still, "I _will not_ lose you, my beloved." Her body quivered. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you." He soothed, vaguely uncertain of whether he could _actually_ promise such a thing. Byleth was as untried as he was, and he was so _damnably_ strong... "If I cause you discomfort, tell me."

With that, Dimitri's shaking hands urged her legs even further apart. Sylvain had mentioned that he might feel odd upon seeing a woman for the first time, _really_ seeing a woman. But all Dimitri felt was a hunger that tormented his body. He longed to sweep her off the bed and devour her, settling for tender, nibbling kisses instead.

She whimpered and her hands were suddenly in his hair, caressing the back of his head fitfully. "Oh, _please-_ " 

Her taste flooded his tongue in a heady rush, spurring him on to messily conquer her with his mouth. Dimitri knew he had no real _technique_ , a single afternoon of licking and slurping produce with Sylvain would not be enough to grant him mastery. But Byleth did not appear to be overly troubled by his lack of experience, her fingers knitting against his scalp helplessly. 

She was so wet he could feel it dripping down his chin, the knowledge that _he did that_ making him ache anew. If he could arouse her so dramatically, perhaps he _could_ satisfy her. Her hips pitched abruptly and Dimitri hungrily pressed his face to her, giving in to his desire to devour her entirely. She was _delicious_. After years of not being able to taste anything, her arousal was like a healing downpour on the wasteland of his senses.

Byleth cried out his name and Dimitri flinched, startled. Her legs were shaking, her nails digging into the back of his neck hard enough to break the skin. "Alright?" He managed to ask, actually _feeling_ her pulse underneath his tongue when he lapped slowly at her sensitive skin.

"Oh _Goddess_ , Dimitri…" Byleth gasped, her eyes wide. 

"Didn't hurt you, right?"

"No, no." She waved off his concern, her breaths ragged. 

Dimitri rested his cheek on her stomach, still worried that he had caused some harm. "Are you certain?"

" _Dimitri_ ." Byleth huffed, cupping his face. "It did _not_ hurt. I am not in pain. I have never experienced...not with another person, that is."

"Ah, so you…" Dimitri trailed off, feeling unnecessarily smug. "You honor me, Byleth."

She groaned, obviously exasperated with his teasing. "I have done my own research, you know." She informed him, rolling her hips up to press against his cock. Dimitri choked, looking down to watch her move.

"That is...you are very talented." He remarked faintly. "Incredible." 

"May we attempt?" Byleth's shy request rang in his ears and Dimitri hid his face in her neck, his hips rocking down into the cradle of her thighs. 

"As much as you can endure, my beloved." He had never thought that he would experience this with someone, much less with the woman that he loved. Dimitri was overwhelmed with emotion, his self-control fraying. "I would prefer that you are on top of me if we are to...attempt."

"On top? Is that not a bit strange?"

"If I have you beneath me, I am unsure that I will be able to refrain from bruising you. And if I am too much for you, I would rather that you were able to easily withdraw." Dimitri explained delicately. "I will do my best, of course, but I am unsure of how well I will... _manage_ myself once we are...erm, intertwined." 

Byleth muffled her laughter with her arm. "You just had your mouth in a place that no one else has ever _seen_ on me, how can you still be so bashful?"

"I am _not_ -" Dimitri began to sputter, finding himself licking his lips absently to catch her taste again. "I am just...I am simply warning you!"

"I'm not afraid of you, Dimitri."

Dimitri shook his head. "I know. I just don't want your bravery to be the reason I damage you. You know how accursedly strong I am."

"We are simply coupling with each other, not clashing on the battlefield. You will not hurt me. You cannot damage me." Byleth assured him, her eyes beautiful in the dim glow of the candlelight. "You would never do anything to cause me unwarranted harm."

" _Goddess_." Dimitri rasped, the word half-prayer, half-curse. "Permit me, then."

"You are permitted." 

"Tell me if I hurt you."

In reply, Byleth reached down between their bodies and gently wrapped her fingers around his manhood. "I love you." This was a claim, as sure as the sunrise. Dimitri's shoulders snapped taut, his whole form yearning for their joining. 

"My beloved," he gasped, feeling her graze the head of his cock over her slit. " _Please_ , Byleth." Her fingers guided him safely in and Dimitri finally breached her with a moan. He could not stop the savage snarl that built in his chest upon feeling her wet heat close around his shaft, and he fought to hold himself still. "Are you alright?" He asked raggedly, stroking her cheek.

Byleth nodded, her expression dazed. 

"My beloved, are you certain?" Dimitri was unsure what to make of her face, even as his instincts screamed for him to plunge himself deeper, _deeper-_ -His fingers gripped the luxurious sheets beneath them. "Byleth?"

She crooned to him, closing her eyes and arching her back. Dimitri's breath caught in his throat when she moved, her body accepting more and more of what he had to offer her. 

"Goddess," The King growled, " _yes_ ." He could do this, he realized suddenly. He could make love to the woman who had his heart and _not_ hurt her. She could enjoy him fearlessly. He shifted his weight over her and cupped her cheek, a tender caress. "Would you like more, my dear professor?" He asked her softly. 

Byleth's hand covered his own on her cheek, as it had when she had returned to him in the cathedral. 

"Teach me, my love."

…

She woke just as the sun was beginning to pink the horizon. Byleth's body ached sweetly from the night's exertion, making her moan as she stretched.

Dimitri's heavy arm was slung over her hip, the King still deep in slumber. His fingers twitched fitfully. Byleth carefully rolled over so she could see him and was utterly mesmerized. When he slept, the raw edge of him seemed to smooth ever so slightly. Here, lit only by the soft hue of reluctant dawn, his blond hair fanned out on the pillow, he looked like a sleeping prince from a fairytale. 

Aside from the numerous love bites that littered his neck and chest, of course. _Those_ gave him a bit of a different look, somewhat less chaste and sterile. Byleth flushed as she realized her own breasts were peppered with similar marks. Neither of them had been particularly subtle in their affections, she supposed, still a little giddy about everything that had transpired.

Dimitri groaned in his sleep, muttering something and then wrapping her in his arms once more. Her head slotted beneath his chin like it was made to be there and she smiled, closing her eyes. "I love you, Dimitri." She whispered, kissing the underside of his jaw.

His mouth turned up at the edges and he snuggled her tighter, mumbling more nonsense words in her ear. The sunrise slowly illuminated the room, bathing the two drowsing lovers in a rosy glow. Soon enough, their work would intrude. But for just a moment longer, they ignored responsibilities and titles in favor of basking in the contentment of each other's embrace. 

_The Savior King and the Guardian Of Order_.


End file.
